


satellites

by nymja



Series: satellites verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ben Loves His Grandma, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, In Between Jobs Ben, Jedi Knight Rey, Jedi Master Anakin, Mutual Loss of Virginity, Non-smut versions of chapters available!, Slow Build, background Anakin/Padme and Han/Leia, explicit hand holding, time jumps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-17 04:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 97,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: As a dying request, Rey’s Master gives her a final mission: Protect Naboo’s senator, Ben Solo.But once she lands in Theed, it’s not a respectable politician under threat that Rey finds, but a lonely, young man angry at the universe. And he has only one demand: that she teaches him what she knows of the Force.--An AU where the Jedi Order never fell, Order 66 was never executed, and Master Anakin Skywalker had many, many secrets on Naboo.





	1. act i, part one: a star collapsing

**Author's Note:**

> so disclaimer, never watched clone wars. blanket statement that no clone wars canon is going to be incorporated into this fic, sorry to those fans :(

**34 ABY  
** \--  
  


She jerks awake when she hears the slide of a door, her eyes blinking as her body rights itself from the slumped position she had fallen asleep in against the wall. As her eyes focus, Rey watches as the shadow of a hoverchair emerges, followed shortly by its owner.  
 

“How is he?” She demands before she can stop. But then she catches herself, tacking on a deferential, “Master Yoda.”  
 

He stares at her, expression neutral and difficult to read as it so often is. She remembers when she was a youngling, when he would smile more. The affectionate taps he would give her shoulders with his cane. She waits in that agonizing silence, as he chooses the words that will give her the least amount of pain. Rey already knows this can be nothing but bad news.  
 

“Prepared, he is,” the Master settles on, hands folding in front of him. “As we all must be.”  
 

Rey looks down, tucking her lower lip behind her front teeth as she tries desperately not to blink. It had been a long few days, resting outside the Temple’s healing quarters. Waiting. Always waiting. Her breathing feels shallow. She has not felt such pain since the loss of Master Kenobi, when she was still barely a padawan.  
  


She straightens her posture. Tries to be brave in the face of grief. “How much longer?”  
 

Yoda sends her an inscrutable look. There’s a weight to it, going beyond what she can see or comprehend. He sighs, a long exhale through his nostrils.  
 

“Speak to him, now you should.” His expression softens, “Remember, young Rey, it is not loss we experience. Only growth. Only change.”

  
She gives him a tense nod, knowing but not believing, as she walks past him into the room where they are keeping Anakin Skywalker in the final moments of his life.  
 

\--  
  


He is connected to half a dozen machines, sweat plastering his grey hair to his skin. There’s a large swath of patches over his chest from where he took a blow during a failed military coup in the outskirts of the Hapes Consortium. For her. To stop her from getting hurt.  
 

His breathing is metallic, echoing in the ventilator as his blue eyes dart to meet hers. They are as clear as ever.  
 

“You look…” He exhales, the sound more like a wheeze. “Terrible, apprentice.”  
  


Tears finally spring to her eyes as Rey kneels down beside his bed. She grabs his hand, his skin chilled against hers. She feels him in the Force, still burning, but cold instead of hot-- a star preparing for its collapse.  
 

She swallows hard. But she forces words past her lips, an echo of the numerous conversations they’ve had before. “I’m a Knight now, you realize.”  
 

She thinks she sees a grin, but it is hard to be certain with the apparatus covering the lower half of his face. “Still...a junkrat.”  
 

She gives a watery smile in return, fingers squeezing his. He does not squeeze back, and she feels something chipping away.  
  


They sit in silence for awhile, his automated breathing filling the room as Rey gradually rests her forehead against the back of his hand. The polished, stone floors of the Jedi Temple press into her knees, but she becomes numb to it. Anakin’s inhales and exhales create a rhythm that draws her into a dreadful sort of trance. And she keeps wondering.  
 

 _What else could I have done? What would have stopped this?  
_  

“Rey.”  
 

His thin voice holds something powerful to it, and her gaze flickers up.  
 

“Yes, Master?”  
 

“I...am not long. Here.” He coughs, it rattles everything in the room. Everything in _her.  
_  

She wants to reassure him. Lie. Tell him that he’s wrong. But he’s not wrong and she can feel him even now slipping away. Burning bright and cold and final.

   
“Do something for me...would you?”  
 

“Whatever you want,” she says brashly, quickly. As she is often reminded, she is headstrong and stubborn and impulsive. _Exactly what my old apprentice deserves,_ Obi-Wan had said with a grin when she was young and clinging to the edge of his robe.  
 

“Padme is coming,” he whispers. And the whisper is _soft._ She hears in it an ache she doesn’t understand, has never heard from him before. But she thinks she’s seen it in his eyes, when he’s been staring too long out a viewport or lingering over a manifest. Were Rey not so embedded in her own grief in this moment, she might have understood sooner.

   
“Who?” She asks, confused.  
 

Anakin closes his eyes. “You,” he breathes in so hard she can see the rattle of his chest. Below the patches that are too late for saving. “Need to go with her.”  
 

Rey frowns, her brows furrowing. “What?”  
 

“Go to Naboo,” he says, his voice becoming stronger. Steelier. She hears a bit of her old Master in the request, willful and powerful. “Go with Padme.” He swallows. “Find...find Ben.”  
 

“Ben?” She’s never heard the name before.  
 

“He’s a...senator. In danger.” Anakin exhales. “Save him. From _them_.”  
 

“Master-”  
 

“ _Promise._ ”

   
“I will,” she swears with conviction. “I’ll do it.”

   
He nods, pained. His hand never moves in her grip.

   
\--  
 

A few hours later, Rey finds herself stepping back from the bed as several guards are ushered in to the small healer’s quarters. She is unnoticeable, a newly minted Jedi Knight with no legacy or heroic deeds to her name.  
 

“What are you doing?” She demands, but is ignored.  
 

A guard gently pushes her back. Her hand goes to the lightsaber holster at her back. The guard sees the motion, tenses.  
  


“We’re Padme Amidala's protection detail,” the guard explains. Rey doesn’t know what this means, but the name sinks into her. _Padme._ “She’s come to pay her respects to Master Skywalker.”  
  


“I’m his apprentice,” she counters. Though it isn’t quite true. She’s no one’s apprentice, anymore.  
 

The guard nods stiffly, opening her mouth to say something else, when the door opens again.  
 

An old woman walks through them. She is regal, beautiful. She wears an elaborate gown embroidered with black gems that Rey cannot even begin to identify, her white hair folded and braided into an elaborate style under a veil.  
  


Her eyes are watery and Rey sees tracks of ruined makeup running down her cheeks, smudging her face in blacks and reds.  
 

“Ani!” She cries, rushing to his side.  
 

Rey’s eyes widen at the nickname, and she watches quietly as this woman hovers over her Master. Her fine, manicured hands find one of his and grip it tightly.  
  


“Padme?” Her Master asks, confused and desperate.  
 

Rey slowly lets go of the hold on her lightsaber. Her limbs feel numb.  
  


“Yes, Anakin.” The woman brings his hand to her cheek. Wonder blooms in Rey when her Master’s thumb runs slowly alongside it. “It’s me. I’m here.”  
 

“Thank you,” he breathes.  
 

And it all unfolds slowly before her.  
 

Rey watches, as Anakin squeezes Padme’s hand in a way he couldn’t hold onto Rey’s. As his eyes slide close and Padme shudders out a sob. There is a nova and then a shockwave, and Rey sees his chest rise for a final time.  
 

Then disappear.  
 

The machinery falls in a silent echo. His robes sink formless to the bed. Padme cries out and sags down until she hits the floor.  
 

Rey’s voice erupts in a sob, her hand covering her mouth as she feels her Master’s presence burning in the Force around them.  
 

“Grieve not...” Yoda whispers suddenly to her side. She does not know how long he’s been there, but she is grateful for his presence as she feels her back hunch over in another sob.  
 

“...For choose our final moment, we do.”  
 

The old woman presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, unmoving from the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more set-up chapter before we get rolling! thank you so much for the wonderful response you've given this fic already, ilu all <3

**21 ABY  
\--  
  
**

She stays seated in the middle of her mat, watching the others warily as they begin to filter out from the room. Off to the same place that she has to go to. But she’s going to wait until they’re all gone, until she has the space to herself.  
 

Children wearing the same sand-colored robes as herself make a neat, orderly line as they head for the door. Some of them snicker at each other, and one--an Iridonian named Kia-Mar--playfully shoves the back of another student. Rey doesn’t pay attention to what they’re saying. Instead her small hands clench tightly around the precious item in her palm.  
  


When the last student disappears from the threshold, she moves. The fingers of her free hand lift up the edge of her mat. Then she uses the toe of her boot to edge out a loose floor panel.  
 

Underneath, there’s a random assortment of the items she’s collected. A flower from the Temple’s courtyard that’s starting to wither around the edges. Some frayed linen from discarded, old robes. A warped hydrospanner she found when she was walking by the landing pads--the edge of it meticulously cleaned by her the day before.  
  


And food. Old, dried out crusts from vegebread. Powdered synthsteak. A few flasks of water.  
 

Sending a quick glance to the door to make sure it’s still empty of people, Rey goes to place her recent treasure among the hoard.  
 

It’s a rind from her morning serving of burrfruit, its edge a bright purple and still smelling sweet. She takes a moment to smile at it, inhale its aroma, before she tucks it in with the rest. Then she moves the panel and the mat back to their original place, smoothing her palms over the bedding until it looks flat.  
  


Then she runs, her small boots echoing against the floor as she does her best to catch up with her fellow younglings. To make sure she doesn’t anything wrong--because, if she’s good, she might get to try and comm her family.  
 

Throughout all this, Rey is oblivious to the old man standing to the side of the door, a thin and humorless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

   
He has, after all, seen such actions before.  
 

\--   
 **34 ABY  
\--  
  
**

She wants to be ill. Her weight shifts from foot to foot, feeling oddly nervous she stands outside the embassy. Above her, Coruscant is lively as ever in the open sky-- diplomats and senators and merchants and whoever else coming and going too quickly for her to really keep track.

   
Not that any of it matters. Rey’s only here for one person.  
 

She takes a deep breath through her nose, hands fidgeting inside the pockets of her short trousers. It is the warm season, and so she doesn’t favor the heavy brown over robes of her Order.  
 

She’s not wearing robes at all, actually. Just some old travel clothes that were sometimes necessary to have on hand for diplomatic or peace-keeping missions.  
 

Not that this is one of those. Or a mission. One not sanctioned by the Council, anyways.  
 

 _But it’s for Anakin.  
_  

Rey closes her eyes. It’s been a week since the loss of her Master, but she still feels his burning presence in the Force, as though it’s forgotten to leave. Or is too stubborn to let go, more like. The thought makes a small grin form on her lips. Because naturally her Master would be the one to bullhead the all-powerful.  
 

But the grin vanishes once she looks at the embassy door. Because it’s now or never. If she’s going to abscond her duties and beg a woman clearly in mourning for a ride to an unknown planet for an unsanctioned mission, this is the only chance she’ll have. She thinks of the old woman with perfect posture and manicured hands. Of her Master’s last request.

   
“Right,” she says to herself, squaring her shoulders. “I can do this.”  
 

Padme. That’s who she needs to see. And if the transport manifests she stole from the Temple are correct, she’s due to leave in a few hours.  
 

On a cruiser that Rey needs to be on.  
 

Rey grips the strap of her pack, before counting to ten and walking into the embassy.  
 

“Hello,” she says to the receptionist, a Togruta flanked by guards. “I’m here to speak to Padme.”  
 

The Togruta frowns. “Do you have an appointment?”  
 

She fiddles with the strap. “...No.”  
 

“The former Senator is _very_ busy preparing for her departure-”  
 

“I was Master Skywalker’s apprentice!” She blurts out, hoping it carries the weight she thinks it might.

   
The Togruta stares at her for a long moment. Then sighs. “I’ll comm her rooms.”

   
\--

   
If Rey had thought the Jedi Temple beautiful, the Nabooian Embassy was opulent. She openly stares at the intricate art on the walls, made from glittering gems or glass. The floor is marble, shot with veins of gold and it all feels beautiful and, somehow, impossibly warm.  
 

“Do be understanding,” the droid in front of her clatters, “Had we known to expect your visit we surely would have sent a delegate to the Temple. No need for you to come all the way here-”

   
Rey has been ignoring the protocol droid in favor of taking in the building, but she manages a wane smile, shaking her head. “No, it’s my fault. It’s all rather…”  
 

A massive pair of double doors, made from actual _wood,_ open before them. And Rey’s lips part slightly at the furnishings of the embassy’s guest quarters. Paintings on real canvas. Sculptures. It’s all finery that the Jedi are supposed to forsake. She becomes acutely aware of the dirt under her fingernails, of the plain travel clothes. This is not her world.  
 

...but, somehow, it must have been part of Anakin’s. _Anakin_ , who Rey would more often than not see smudged in coolant and grease as he tinkered with old Jedi ships in the hanger bay.  
 

“Please, take a seat!” The droid insists, gesturing to a plush sofa. “Would you care for refreshment?”  
  


Rey looks at the pristine, white sofa. Then flickers her gaze to the droid. It meets it with its unblinking, circular lenses. “Um, no. Thank you. I’m fine.”

   
“If you insist,” the droid says, taking a step back. “I will check on Madame Padme. I am _certain_ she will be eager to see you!”  
  


Rey is not as certain, but she nods all the same. After the droid leaves, she walks around the sitting room. She stops when she gets to the viewport.  
  
  
On the other side of it, Coruscant buzzes with its regular mid-afternoon activity. She recognizes all of the buildings in the skyline, but her gaze rests on the towering figure nearly straight ahead. The Jedi Temple. Her...home. Of sorts. It stands like a monolith on the horizon, and she feels her uneasiness multiply.  
  
  
No one knew she was here. Not her fellow Knights, who she grew up with. Not the Masters. Not the Council. Rey swallows dryly. She will have to send Master Yoda a note once she arrives on Naboo.  
  
  
 _If_ she arrives on Naboo. She knows nothing about her Master’s request other than its outcome depends entirely on the woman she came to meet.  
  
  
It is a few minutes later that a pair of doors open, and Rey turns to face the incomer. Padme’s gown makes the gem-studded one she wore to the Temple look plain, her hair far more intricate, and face free from cosmetic stains. She is still in black, her sleeves trailing from her elbows to the floor. Her lined face looks unspeakably tired.  
  
  
“What brings you to our embassy?” She greets, and if Rey did not know any better she would say it was friendly. But there is an edge to this woman, a fear underneath her skin that Rey can sense through the Force.  
  
  
She is wary...of her?  
  
  
“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” Rey begins. She does not know what counts as _barging_ in political terms, so it seems a safe enough place to start. “I...I wanted to make sure I got to speak with you before you left.”  
  
  
Padme’s brown eyes set a hard stare on Rey. And she slumps under it slightly, despite herself. “On what matters?”  
  
  
This is not going how Rey imagined. Though she does not know what, exactly, it was that she expected.  
  
  
“You and Master Skywalker were...friends?” She offers.  
  
  
“For many years now. He, along with other Masters, have aided my people several times over.” Rey does not think she is imagining the defensive note in Padme’s voice. But why? There was nothing wrong with befriending a member of the Order.  
  
  
Rey clears her throat. “I am sorry.”  
  
  
Padme stares at her a long time, before she glances away. “Thank you.” The woman clears her throat. “I must apologize, but I have many matters to attend to before departing-”  
  
  
“I need your help,” Rey blurts.  
  
  
There is a long stretch of silence, and Rey feels as though she’s being run through a diagnostic scanner. After a moment, Padme’s voice softens-- just a little.

  
“...You’re Rey, aren’t you?”  
  
  
She blinks. “Yes. You know me?”  
  
  
“He spoke of you often.” The hardness has retreated from her gaze, leaving an exhausted impression in its wake. “It seems I am not the only one who should receive condolences today.”  
  
  
Rey looks down, and forces herself to say words she secretly does not believe. “There is no sorrow in the loss of a Master…”  
  
  
“But there is in the loss of friends. And mentors.” Padme steps forward, her elaborate gown seeming to float over the floor. One of her hands rests on Rey’s arm. “Now. Tell me why you’re here."  
  
  
She bites down on her lip. “He sent me.”  
  
  
“...Anakin sent you.”  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
“For what reason?”  
  
  
Her brows draw together. “When he was…” she exhales. “Before he joined the Force, he told me to come find you.” She meets the woman’s gaze. “He wanted me to accompany you to Naboo.”  
  
  
Padme’s face is expressionless, a talent she must have acquired during her time as a politician. “Why?”  
  
  
“I’m to protect someone. A senator.”  
  
  
“Did he say which one?”  
  
  
“Yes. Ben.”  
  
  
The silence continues, but there’s a thicker tension in the air at the name _Ben_. And Rey senses Padme’s indecision. Panic flares in her chest, and Rey does the only thing she can think of--she rests her calloused, tanned hand over Padme's own.  
  


“Please,” she whispers. “It was the last thing he asked of me.”  
  
  
Padme watches her face closely. After a moment, she nods.  
  
  
“It seems he brought us together for a reason.” She closes her eyes, looking pained. “So let us see through its course.”  
  
  
Rey feels something in her uncoil, a deflation of the chest and mind. “Thank you.”  
  
  
Padme smiles, a wane but genuine expression. “If you are anything like the other Jedi I’ve known,” she says in a quiet voice, “I suspect I will be the one thanking you at the end of this.”

  
\--  
 

Three days later, Rey is on a cruiser descending onto Naboo’s surface. From her viewport, she takes in the green grass, blue skies, and clear bodies of water with wide eyes. Rey is no stranger to planetary travel, but something about Naboo _feels_ different. Wonderful.  
  
  
“It’s beautiful,” she breathes out.  
 

“I agree,” Padme says to her side. “I would call no other place home."  
 

Rey thinks of Coruscant, the planet where she grew up. The endless buildings, lights, and ships. The magnificent sterility of the Temple there. “No, I wouldn’t either,” she agrees quietly.

   
“Do you know how long you will be staying?”  
  
  
Rey bites the inside of her cheek.  
  
  
“...then I assume you’ve notified the Council of your departure,” Padme states, and if Rey didn’t know any better, she would suspect there was a spark of humor in the statement.  
  
  
“I will. Once I get to ground.”  
  
  
“You think they would disapprove?”  
  
  
She thinks back to the Council. Of how they often reacted to Anakin’s unsanctioned missions. “...slightly.”  
  
  
Padme lets out an amused sound. “Perhaps we’ll make a politician out of you during your stay.”  
  
  
“I think I’d prefer a lightsaber,” she says without thinking. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she cringes. “Sorry. I meant no disrespect-”  
  
  
“That’s alright,” Padme says, sounding far away. “I’ve heard such things before.”  
  
  
The cruiser lowers further to the surface. Rey watches, as the large swathes of greens and blues begin to take shape. Buildings, all natural shades, start to pepper the beautiful landscape.  
  
  
“We’ll first be going to Theed,” Padme instructs. “I have a townhouse in the city that you may stay in for as long as you need.”  
  
  
“Thank you.” She folds her arms over her stomach. “Is there anything you know that could help me find this Ben?”  
  
  
Padme sends her an amused look. “Finding him won’t be a problem.”  
  
  
Relief settles on her. Perhaps this would not be as ominous or difficult as she anticipated. “You know him?”  
  
  
“Yes,” she says to the viewport. Rey follows her gaze, and sees that they are focused on the approaching tarmac.  
  
  
There is a retinue, not unlike the guards who accompanied the former senator to the Jedi Temple. But there is a figure, clad in greys, that catches her attention. He stands apart from the crowd, and they stay apart from him. He’s a head taller than most of the other humans, his arms folded over his chest. Even though they are separated by another ten feet or so of sky and the walls of the cruiser, Rey feels something about him _pull._ It’s as though he’s staring right at her, although such a thing is impossible.

  
“Who is that?” She asks before she can stop herself.  
  
  
Padme straightens from her seat, her hands folding into her sleeves. “My grandson.”  
  
  
Rey frowns.  
  
  
“Former Senator Ben Solo.”  
  
  
Unwillingly, her hand rests over the handle of her lightsaber as the cruiser finishes its descent.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the response to the fic!! you're so wonderful /;3;/

**21 ABY  
\---  
  
**

“Who’s the girl?”  
  
  
Obi Wan hesitates for a moment as he finishes reading the datapad screen before him. Then, he clears his throat off-handedly, shooting a side look to his former apprentice.  
  


“Girl, Anakin?”  
  
  
His old friend ignores the towering stack of datapads before him, opting instead to frown at the ceiling. “One of the new arrivals. Scrawny, sunburned…”  
  
  
“Has already attempted escape three times?” Obi Wan finishes, the youngling Rey immediately coming to mind. Because naturally Anakin can spot the ones who will be _trouble.  
  
  
_ Sure enough, his lip quirks up into a grin. “Yes, that must be her.”  
  
  
Obi Wan lets go of a long sigh, rubbing each of his temples with his fingers and thumb. “Her name is Rey, of Jakku. What of her?”  
  
  
“ _Jakku_ ,” Anakin says with a sour expression.   
  
  
“As opposed to Tatooine’s rugged charm?”  
  
  
“...A fair point.” Anakin kicks his booted feet up onto the table, and Obi Wan mindlessly shoves them off with his elbow. “I dare say she reminds me of someone.”  
  
  
Obi Wan raises his brow. “Would you like to know the first thing she did upon arrival?”  
  
  
“Please.”  
  
  
Wordlessly, Obi Wan lifts his arm. The brown sleeve falls back to his elbow, revealing a small series of puncture wounds. They are made of sharp divots, forming unfinished circles on either side of his forearm.  
  


Anakin _snorts._ “She bit you?”  
  
  
“Yes,” Obi Wan does not entirely share his amusement. He rotates his wrist, showing another series of punctures. “ _Twice._ ”  
  


Something glints in Anakin’s eyes. Something Obi Wan has not seen in a long time, and despite himself, he’s _relieved_ even with the undeniable headache about to haunt him.  
  
  
“Seems I ought to keep an eye on her,” Anakin states. “We can’t have younglings cannibalizing our Master of the Order.”  
  
  
“No,” Obi Wan says tersely, “I don’t suppose we can.”  
  
  
He thinks of the youngling, her driven and stubborn nature, and hopes this will be a balm for Anakin’s struggles with the Order instead of yet another poison.  
  
  
\--  
 **34 ABY  
\--  
  
  
**When she conjured up a mental image of the senator from Naboo, Rey imagined someone who might be the male version of Padme Amidala. Poised. Old. Sad, but kind.  
 

Ben Solo quickly establishes himself as none of these things.  
 

Rey hangs back as Padme and her guards descend the gangway, eyes scanning the crowd and posture as relaxed as she can make it. Observant, just as Master Obi Wan had instructed her when she was young. Looking for anything that might connect to Anakin’s warning.  
 

Padme walks gracefully and calmly, but the mood is soon tempered by a storm cloud in grey rushing toward her. The tall man all but shoves the crowd of well-wishers, and manages to roughly shoulder a gungan who sends his back an incredulous look. Rey frowns as she watches him, trying and failing to wish her unease away as she takes stock of Senator ( _f_ _ormer_ senator) Ben Solo.  
 

His clothes are made of fine quality, well-tailored and just as royal as Padme’s. The one-shouldered, dove grey cape has a silver clasp and waves out behind him-- doing nothing to stop the man from looking like an angry force of nature. Like his grandmother, he has moles on his face and brown eyes. Unlike his grandmother, is everything else.  
  
  
She can’t see Padme’s reaction from her vantage point on the cruiser, but the woman extends her arms and Ben clasps them tightly with his hands. He towers over her, yet somehow seems smaller.  
  
  
“So he’s dead?” He greets, his voice deep.  
  
  
A chill runs down Rey’s spine. She feels her jaw clench.  
  
  
“Yes,” Padme answers with far more kindness than Rey can imagine anyone having. “He’s gone, Ben.”  
  
  
Ben’s nostrils flare. He gives a hard swallow, as though fighting back words. Rey watches him, reminding herself that a Jedi is not quick to judge.  
  
  
But judging anyway.  
  
  
“I see,” he finally settles on. His hands tighten where he holds on to Padme’s forearms. “Are you well?”  
  
  
Her voice is soft but not reprimanding. “You already know the answer to that.”  
  
  
Ben’s upper lip curls, and he looks down at the ground. Rey’s eyes widen when Padme reaches up to press her lips to his cheek.  
  
  
“We will talk about this later,” she whispers, “With less ears and eyes.”  
  
  
After a moment, her grandson gives a curt nod. Rey feels his anger pulsing in the air around them, and she wonders _why_ \--why this politician has such a resentment toward her Master, and why her Master decided to send her here to protect him. In the moment, she feels foolish and impulsive, and she turns her head to look over her shoulder-- the cruiser that is bound to return to Coruscant beckoning.  
  
  
“Like the ones you’ve brought with you.”  
  
  
The coldness in his voice makes her turn. When she faces the gangway, her eyes widen at seeing Ben’s stare directly on her. His face is a failed mask of neutrality-- she can see the slight furrow to his brows, the downward turns at the corners of his mouth. The way his posture straightens when she looks at him, as though he’s reminding her that he is impossibly tall.  
  
  
“She is here to help,” Padme reprimands. She turns to face Rey as well, and Rey is immediately reassured by the smile she sees. “Please, join us.”  
  
  
Rey sends Ben a wary look, but follows Padme’s request. The guards part for her dirty-booted feet and a few strides later she is standing beside two former politicians.  
  
  
“This is the Jedi Knight Rey,” Padme introduces, “She’s here at Master Skywalker’s request.”  
  
  
Ben has not broken his stare. His eyes are dark and remind Rey of cold caves. “A Jedi,” he repeats hollowly.  
  
  
Rey gives a respectful bow, as she was trained. “Senator Solo.”  
  
  
She knows immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. Padme’s smile recedes slightly, and Ben quickly proves to her that she was wrong about his eyes. They are not cold at all. They narrow, and a hand falls from his grandmother’s arm to make a fist.  
  
  
“I’m sorry,” she corrects quickly, hands raised. “I don’t follow politics-”  
  
  
This, too, is the wrong thing to say.  
  
  
“Why should you,” Ben says neutrally, fist unreleased. “When there’s a High Council to do it for you.”  
  
  
“ _Ben,_ ” Padme hisses.  
  
  
Rey frowns. “What do you mean by that?”  
  
  
Ben releases his grandmother’s other arm to step forward. He looks down, lips pressed into a thin line before he speaks.  
  
  
“There’s no need for a Jedi’s opinion in political affairs,” his states. “Especially not on Naboo.”  
  
  
Rey resists the urge to slam her lightsaber handle into his stomach. Instead she rolls back her shoulders and meets his disdainful look with a stubborn one of her own. “Don’t worry. I’m not here for that.”  
  
  
He sneers. “There’s no need for a Jedi’s presence, either.”  
  
  
“Not according to Master Skywalker.”  
  
  
“And what could that old man possibly have to say?”  
  
  
She feels her own temper rising at the cold reception. Her hand grips the strap of her bag, fingers tightening. “That you need me.”  
  
  
For a moment, he looks confused. “What?”  
  
  
Rey juts out her chin. “You’re in danger. I was sent to protect you.”  
  
  
The look he sends her, from the toes of her scuffed boots, to the top of her head, is instantly dismissive. He leans down, lowering his voice.  
  
  
“Stay away from me, Jedi.”  
  
  
Before she can respond, he stands, giving his grandmother a quick kiss to the forehead. Padme looks at him sadly, but he scowls, and before the older woman can say anything he storms away as quickly as he came.  
  
  
Rey knows she is fuming. That her temper is getting the better of her. But his opening question keeps playing in her mind like a looped comm recording. _So he’s dead._ She glares at his retreating form with nothing short of anger.  
  
  
A light hand on her arm makes her look down.  
  
  
Padme meets her gaze. “Give him time,” is all she says. “It may not seem like it, but he’s hurting in his own way.”  
  
  
For Padme’s sake, Rey forces the rage from her expression. But after only one meeting, she doubts Ben is the one hurting as much as he is the one that hurts.  
  


\--  
 

She’d messed up.  
 

Rey levitates in the center of her guest quarters a few hours later, cross-legged above the floor as she desperately attempts to meditate. But the sense of detachment doesn’t come, her mind replaying her exchange with Ben Solo over and over again.  
  
  
He’d lashed out, and she reacted poorly. Risen to the bait. That wasn’t how a Knight was supposed to act to their charge.  
  
  
She breathes in for six counts. Exhales for eight. And still clarity doesn’t come. All she can see in her mind is his clenched fists, his scowling face.  
  
  
He... _hated_ her. Well, what she was.   
  
  
The sentiment wasn’t entirely new. Ever since the end of the Clone Wars, the Jedi had been less than welcome in formerly Separatist systems. But Naboo wasn’t Separatist. She didn’t think. Not for the first time, Rey wished she had paid better attention to Master Obi Wan “The Negotiator” Kenobi’s lectures.  
  
  
Ben Solo hated Jedi. Padme Amidala had been one of Anakin’s closest friends.  
  
  
Her next exhale comes out as a hiss between her teeth. It had to be for Padme’s sake that she was meant to do this. A final favor Anakin wanted to give. It was hard for Rey to otherwise reconcile his interest in someone’s well being who was _not_ a senator, _not_ a supporter of the Jedi, and _not…  
  
  
_ Not _kind._ Anakin had always been kind.   
  


She lets out a noise of frustration, her butt connecting gracelessly back to the floor. She could reign in her temper, she could try her best. She could do it.  
  
  
She owed Anakin at least that.  
  
  
Her thoughts are interrupted by a polite buzzing outside the chambers. Immediately, Rey straightens out her travelling clothes and attempts to redo the half-pony holding back some of her hair. She does her best to be presentable. It might be Padme, after all.   
  
  
“Come on in,” she calls.  
  
  
It’s not Anakin’s friend that walks in, but the protocol droid from the embassy. It scuttles forward, a tray in its hands.  
  
  
“Madame Padme thought you might be hungry,” it offers, the light from Rey’s viewport glinting off its golden head.  
  
  
She’s starving.  
  
  
“Thank you,” she says, reaching for the tray. She doesn’t know what half the items are on it, but she sees the bright, purple rind of a burrfruit and smiles.  
  
  
“It is no trouble, you are, after all, our guest Jedi Rey.”  
  
  
She’s already chewing half a burrfruit. “ ‘s just Rey.”  
  
  
“Very well…” The droid pauses, then seems to brighten up as it straightens. “I am C-3PO. Human-cyborg relations. It is quite wonderful, having Master Skywalker’s pupil with us.” It leans forward. “He shall be missed most terribly, you know.”  
  
  
Rey swallows the fruit, running the back of her hand to catch the juice that’s escaped her mouth and landed on her chin. She doesn’t know why, but this droid’s simple statement does something to her stomach. Twists.  
  
  
“Thank you,” she says, fingers fidgeting with the rind.  
  
  
“Of course,” C-3PO responds, leaning back to its forward stance. “Madame Padme also wished to inform you that she has retired for the day.”  
  
  
Rey nods. She needs to do something for her-- so far, all she’s accomplished is hitching a free ride to the Mid-Rim, occupying a guest room, and provoking her grandson.  
  


“And that Master Solo will be attending a public forum, should you wish to…” the droid pauses, as if trying to recall a direct phrasing. “Hear more of his political views.” It lifts up a small pot of what Rey assumes is tea, revealing a miniature datapad tucked beside it. “This device has been programmed with the address.”  
  
  
Purpose, and most importantly, _hope_ stirs in Rey’s chest as she picks it up. This could be a chance to make up for the terrible introduction, to get things started on better footing. The screen flashes coordinates, and she smiles.  
  
  
“Yes, I should probably stop by.”


	4. Chapter 4

**22 ABY  
\--  
**

“Sit down."  
  
  
The voice is sudden and bodiless, and it makes Rey trip over the edge of her boots. She catches herself on a crate, turning with an annoyed frown.  
  
  
“Master Skywalker?” She demands.  
  
  
“Anakin,” he corrects, not for the first time. There’s the sound of something metal being moved around. Then the hum of a lift.  
  
  
Rey looks around the garage. It’s supposed to be empty, at least that’s what Master Yoda said. Full of old junk that people forgot about. She doesn’t know how she came to be here, or why Master Skywalker was here as well.  
  
  
“What are you doing?” She asks, following the sounds. She rounds a corner of staggered crates, her eyes widening when she notices the old man kneeling in front of what looks like half a speeder.  
  
  
“Fixing things,” Master Skywalker responds. He pushes himself underneath the speeder, until all Rey can see are the soles of his boots. There’s some scraping, the sound of a plasma torch igniting.  
  
  
Not knowing what else to do, and curious despite herself, Rey finds a place on the floor and sits. She watches, eyes wide, as he begins to restore something incredibly broken.  
  
  
After a few moments, Skywalker speaks again. This time his voice is louder to compensate for the sound of his tools. “OBI WAN SAYS YOU’VE BEEN CAUSING TROUBLE!”  
  
  
At once, she feels betrayed and defensive. Her small arms cross over her chest. “I WASN’T!”  
  
  
“THEN WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT MEDITATION YESTERDAY?”  
  
  
Rey looks down, scowls. Meditation yesterday had been a waste of time. And _boring._ And it made her think of things-- warm winds, sleeping underneath awnings, sand stuck to her scalp, and a ship that kept flying away. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like _seeing.  
  
  
_ “I didn’t _do_ anything,” she states under her breath. Nothing but cry. Then yell at Master Yoda. And run back to the younglings’ quarters before the lesson was over.   
  
  
The plasma torch shuts off. Master Skywalker slides out from underneath the speeder, his hair sticking up in places from static and face streaked with grease.   
  
  
“Get over here,” he says.  
  
  
Her nose wrinkles. “ _Why_?”  
  
  
“Because I can’t reach the emitters.”  
  
  
She keeps a wary eye on him, but scuttles forward regardless. Of all the old men in this place, he is the least old and the least awful. Rey points to them.  
  
  
“They’re right here,” she says accusingly.  
  
  
“Not those ones.”  
  
  
“There’s only _one._ ”  
  
  
“How do you know that?”  
  
  
She frowns. Sinks back until she’s resting on her haunches and cradles her chin in her palm. She looks up and sends him a skeptical look.  
  
  
“You don’t know how to do this, do you?”  
  
  
Something, briefly, crosses Master Skywalker’s face. But it’s gone before Rey can figure out what it is. Instead he clears his throat before handing her a multikit.  
  
  
“Why don’t you show me?”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The years pass, and with it comes change and pain and suffering. But they always have their garage, her and her Master. And it becomes a place where Rey learns how to shut out the universe when the universe is not feeling particularly kind.  
  
  
\--  
 **ABY 34  
** \-- 

  
She doesn’t realize she’s distracted until she’s about an hour late for the public forum.  
  
  
In her defense, there is so much to _see_ in Theed. She walks the stone streets with one hand tucked into her brown robe, the other holding a fruit she’s absently chewing on. It’s the most delicious thing she’s ever eaten. C-3PO had called it a _pair._ She wondered where the other one was, because she would not have minded a second.   
  
  
Its juice runs slightly down her chin as she looks up and takes in all of the lights. Unlike the lights of Coruscant, these ones are devoid of noise. They hover in the air, warm oranges and yellows and sometimes reds, like luminaries. Some are strung across wires or ribbons, hovering above her head. As soon as she finishes her food, Rey reaches up on impulse. Her fingertips dance across the bottoms of them, leaving behind small, crystalline chiming as she moves down the street. Rey slides to the side to let some small children pass her, not any older than younglings, their hands sparking with toy fireworks as they run down the street--their laughter joining in with the chimes.  
  
  
Naboo is _wonderful._ Perhaps that’s how Anakin and Padme became friends-- if Rey had a reason, she would visit here as often as she could, too. She looks around and tries to imagine seeing her old Master here. Wonders if he enjoyed the lights and the pairs as much as she is. If he might have walked this very road. For one, brief moment, she lets herself feel at peace with her Master’s passing instead of pain, a strange and invisible connection still very much alive in the Force between them.  
  
  
She exhales. He had loved this place, she’s sure. She loves it too.  
  
  
Rey wishes he would have taken her here. Sometime.  
  
  
For awhile she simply walks, enjoying the quiet beauty of Theed’s night. Her mood soon dies as she goes further, when the device in her pocket buzzes, letting her know she is approaching her destination. She looks down, away from the lights, and reluctantly stares ahead.  
  
  
The public forum is to be held at Theed’s University, an imposing building made of the same sand-colored stone as the rest of the city. Its domed roof towers above her, looking grey instead of green in the setting sun. In front of it is an illuminated fountain, crystal-clear water dripping down from a hovering, chromatic orb. Because of course. Everything in Naboo is round.  
  
  
As she walks closer to the entrance, she sees armed men and women at all of the entrances. They wear the burgundy and blue uniform of the RSF. And they all look terribly bored.  
  
  
Rey tilts her chin up and makes for the large, double-doors that frame a lecture hall’s opening. She gives a brief tap to the nearest guard’s shoulder.  
  
  
“Is this the public forum on…” she reaches into her pocket, withdraws the datapad. “Farm subsidies?”  
  
  
The guard looks at her, bored until he recognizes her robes. The silver cylinder at her waist. He jerks to attention then, clearing his throat. “Uh, yes. It is. I didn’t know a _Jedi_ would be here-”  
  
  
“Is it in there?” She points over his shoulder, to a descending staircase. The muffled sound of amplified voices echoes.  
  
  
“I- yes. Would you like an escort, Miss-?”  
  
  
Rey walks past him. Oblivious to the star-stricken look he sends her retreating back.  
  
  
\--  
  
She is no stranger to political debates or forums. Often, the Jedi are called to serve as protection or facilitators for such things. Rey’s been to a dozen in the past year alone, acting as extra security along with Anakin, Finn, or other fellow Jedi.  
  
  
But this is one of the few where she must pay attention.  
  
  
The forum is...impossibly boring. Even standing to the side of the lecture hall as she is, it’s difficult to keep her attention focused. The man who has the floor now, a pompous-looking elderly man with an absurd mustache, is flat and far from passionate in his statements. His eyes do not stray from the datapad in front of him, his sentences occasionally punctuated by yawns. She does not understand how he expects the public -- all fourteen in attendance -- to be interested in his position if _he_ seems as though he’d rather be taking a nap.  
  
  
Instead, her eyes keep focusing on her charge.  
  
  
Ben sits behind a table in the center of the room, back ramrod straight and his dark eyes scanning the room constantly. They had landed on her when she first walked in, and avoided her since. She tries not to take it personally. She _can’t_ take it personally if she wants to work on getting his trust. If there’s one thing she’s learned from bodyguarding missions, it’s that cooperation from the assumed target is always more helpful than not.  
  
  
Plus, he’s Padme’s grandson. He’s from this beautiful place. There must be _something_ redeemable there.  
  
  
After awhile, she determines that he is paying the speaker more respect than the speaker is paying himself. He has all the tells of an active listener, his fingers diligently type notes into his datapad. He is closed off, cold perhaps, but attentive.  
  
  
That, at least, Rey imagines she can respect. It’s difficult enough for her to sit through an hour.  
  
  
The old man behind the podium yawns once more. “And thus, the Ministry of Agriculture puts forth the motion to decrease subsidies for orchards, dairy, and grain-based farms by 2.8% in the upcoming financial quarter. Thank you.”  
  
  
Five of the fourteen audience members give lukewarm applause. The old man nods to them, steps away from the podium, and takes the seat to the immediate right of Ben Solo.  
  
  
“And now,” the facilitator says, her voice melodic and far more pleasant, “Former Senator and interim Minister of Housing, Ben Solo.”  
  
  
Rey straightens. Minister?  
  
  
He stands, his figure tall and imposing over the smaller, older man. When he walks to the podium, it is with that same storming effect as the tarmac, but Rey gets the sense that he is trying his best to temper it.  
  
  
“Minister Throddo,” Ben begins, his voice level. “Tell me. Is this a joke to you?”  
  
  
The old man, Minister Throddo she assumes, frowns.  
  
  
Ben raises his brows at him, as though in challenge, before he turns back to face the audience. He is still pointedly not meeting her gaze. “As I’m sure you are all aware, a 2.8% decrease in subsidies means less agricultural production.”  
  
  
Rey’s brows drew together. 2.8% didn’t sound as though it would entirely make a difference.  
  
  
“Ministers like Throddo would rather line their pockets, and those of the Republic systems they export to, than focus on bringing stability to Naboo’s own infrastructure.” Ben’s hands come to rest on either side of the podium, holding it tightly. “As my opponent so carefully avoided mentioning, that 2.8% would also cut directly from nutritional programs in Lake Country schools.”  
  
  
Minister Throddo’s face is getting quite red, Rey observes neutrally. She sees in him a man who very much would like to speak. Possibly loudly.  
  
  
“I propose a countermeasure, one that allows for fiscal responsibility that isn’t at the expense of our non-municipal citizens.” He sends Throddo another glare, before turning to the projection screen. It flickers on, statistics glowing in Aurabesh and characters Rey does not recognize. “As you see here…”  
  
  
She does not follow the specifics of his speech. Mainly because it is just as dull as Throddo’s, if not more so. But as the opening goes on, she notices that it’s clear Ben has prepared a thorough plan. One he believes in, if his tone is any indication. Unlike Throddo, there is no yawning in his speech. Every word demonstrates strong training in oration, his voice reminding Rey of the ones in the Senate chamber on Coruscant. Where he was once appointed.  
  
  
Gradually, she feels some of the resentment from their first meeting start to draw away.  
  
  
“In short, Throddo’s proposal is misguided and foolish. It is aimed to increase non-discretionary spending with no thought for sustained education in nutrition.” For the first time, he looks up and meets her gaze. His stare is heavy and she feels the weight of it from her place near the exit. “I will protect Naboo from any threats to its citizens. Including its own politicians. Thank you.”  
  
  
Two people clap.  
  
  
Rey decides it might be better to move toward the center of the room. Her presence is ignored, and she finds a seat in an empty row near the front.  
  
  
“...thank you, interim Minister,” the facilitator says after a brief clearing of her throat. “We will now allow for cross-examinations-”  
  
  
“ _Former_ Senator Solo is a sensationalist throwing uninformed slander at this Ministry!” Throddo slams his fist against the table. “Maybe the Ministry of State would allow such accusations, boy, but the Ministry of Agriculture _will not_ become your next straw man!”  
  
  
Rey watches the exchange carefully, and therefore sees the way Ben’s jaw clenches at _boy,_ how his hands grip tighter to the podium. He visibly swallows, trying to bite back a stronger response. His next question comes out eerily calm.  
  
  
“Do you deny that this would affect Lake Country’s educational programs?”  
  
  
“Less than a quarter of a percent! In an area mostly occupied by recreational estates!!”  
  
  
Ben sneers. “As well as most of our young democracy retreats.”  
  
  
“You mean the ones you’ve so clearly benefited from?”  
  
  
“Minister Throddo,” the facilitator warns gently. “Let us focus on the proposal.”  
  
  
The old man’s neck is now red, too. He raises a finger accusingly. “People of Naboo,” he addresses the audience--which is now looking remarkably more awake. “What I present is a budget cut of inconsequential amount. The credit from this plan will be reallocated toward terraforming initiatives near the Gallo Mountains. Places with _actual_ non-municipal citizens.”   
  
  
He makes a wide gesture toward where Ben is standing. “ _This man’s_ ludicrous, _baseless_ accusations are only matched by his flawed political career. Do not allow yourself to be swayed by some pretty oration.” He scowls. “ _Thank you,_ I will no longer debase my Ministry’s fine reputation by humoring this exchange."  
  
  
Ben’s anger is a palpable thing. Rey keeps a close eye on his face, of the dark stare he sends Throddo’s way and the vein starting to become prominent under the collar of his shirt. It is clear her charge has a temper. Perhaps too much of one for a politician.  
  
  
The facilitator awkwardly coughs. “Interim Minister, do you have a response?”  
  
  
The silence is a taut thing, like walking a fine edge of a precipice. It’s clear to Rey that the audience is looking for something more of a spectator’s sport rather than an actual discussion. She thinks of his careful presentation and feels something like pity.  
  
  
For a tense moment, he continues holding tightly onto the platform. He looks so very close to shouting.  
  
  
But then, he surprises everyone in the room when he visibly swallows.  
  
  
“ ** _No,_ ** ” he bites out, before letting go of the podium and storming toward a side exit.  
  
  
Rey waits only a second before she starts chasing after him.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Once they’re back into the streets, he turns so abruptly that she almost runs into him. She had been half-jogging to keep pace-- he walks too fast for someone with so many _clothes.  
  
  
_ “ _What_?” He demands, face set in a scowl and eyes almost pinning her in place.  
  
  
She stops less than half a foot away from him, taking a half-step back so she can meet his gaze without having to look up. Rey can think of half a dozen things she could say-- _I’m sorry I was short-tempered, I’m sorry_ you _were short-tempered_ \-- but settles on what first comes to mind.  
  
  
“Is it always like that?”  
  
  
He glares down at her, face back in that mask that keeps failing to be neutral. “I’m sure you have an opinion. Jedi always do.”  
  
  
“It seemed bad,” she offers.  
  
  
Ben barely reacts, but she catches the slight thinning of his lips. “Why are you following me?”  
  
  
“I thought someone should after that.” She tries her best to smile, to use that same disarming expression she had seen Master Obi Wan use countless of times in negotiation. “Minister Throddo looked near an embolism. I’m sure you’d like an alibi.”  
  
  
“As noble as your Order,” he states flatly, unamused. He turns again, walking further into the city streets.  
  
  
Rey keeps up with him, lagging only about a half-step behind as she tries not to trip on his Force-forsaken cloak. “I thought you did well, with the speaking I mean.”  
  
  
His steps slow slightly, enough for her to walk in line with him. “What you think doesn’t matter.”  
  
  
She blinks, but shrugs. “You’re likely right. I’m not a diplomat.”  
  
  
“Then what use does the Order even have for you.”  
  
  
The statement shouldn’t land, but it does. And Rey fails to hide her reaction as her shoulders tense and her chin juts out slightly. “I’ll have you know I’m a pilot.” _And a guardian.  
  
  
_ He snorts. It is not the amused kind. “Like your beloved Master.”  
  
  
She frowns. “Yes. Like him. What of it?”  
  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
  
“Did you know him?”  
  
  
The question seems to have a stronger significance for him than her, as he fully stops this time. She sees his hands once again make fists at his sides. “No,” he says coldly. “I didn’t want to know him.”  
  
  
“And what do you mean by _that_?”   
  
  
“He’s a Jedi. An occasional visitor to Naboo.” His voice seems deeper, somehow. “That’s all I need to know.”  
  
  
“You sound angry about it."   
  
  
“I’m not-”  
  
  
“Why?”  
  
  
Ben faces her. “A better question is _why are you still here_?”  
  
  
“I told you, I’m here to protect you.”  
  
  
“Because _Anakin Skywalker_ told you to?”  
  
  
“Yes.” She looks down at the ground. “It was the last thing he asked of me.”  
  
  
Rey senses anger circling this man. Bitterness. A hurt that is long scabbed over, but never scarred. And before she can stop herself, she lets the feelings wash over her. Lets them sink into her mind, so she might sink into his. She brushes against it, sees the slightest glimpse of something in the dark-  
  
  
-but she stops herself. This is not what a Jedi would do. Not without permission. Rey exhales.  
  
  
“Look,” she levels, “I’m not going to go away. Not until I know you’re safe.”  
  
  
“I don’t need protection.”  
  
  
“You might if that assembly was anything to go by,” she counters sharply. “Throddo made it sound as if you could have enemies.”  
  
  
“I’m a politician,” he says dryly.  
  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
  
“I thought I told you to stay away from me.”  
  
  
“I’m clearly not listening.”   
  
  
He looks at her, and for the first time Rey gets the feeling that he’s seeing her as an individual, other than the brown robe she’s wearing. She doubts the verdict is any more favorable.  
  
  
“Maybe you should,” he says softly.  
  
  
Rey sighs. “Like I said-”  
  
  
And something violently tugs at her perception. Before she finishes her sentence, she’s moving. Her hand grabs his, pulling him forward until he stumbles behind her. Once she’s sure she can shield him, she grabs for the lightsaber at her waist, ready to defend. Something is thrown--maybe a detonator?--and before she can think, her thumb is sliding over the ignition and her lightsaber flares up. One of its twin blades sweep in front of her, cutting the object-  
  
  
-and half of it sails over her shoulder to connect with Ben’s chest.  
  
  
She turns, disengaging the lightsaber as she realizes what’s happened.  
  
  
There is a greenish brown _splot_ in the middle of his vest.   
  
  
“THAT’S FOR THE NEW TARIFFS!” Screams a voice from above.  
  
  
As one, both Rey and Ben look up. An old woman, the one who had thrown the fruit, slams shut her apartment window.  
  
  
He glares at the window, then at her.  
  
  
Rey clips the lightsaber back onto her waist. She stares at the splot on his chest. It smells like a pair.  
  
  
“Must be the other one,” she whispers.  
  
  
“What?” Ben demands, clearly at the end of his patience.  
  
  
Rey shakes her head.  
  
  
“Sorry,” she says, halfway meaning it as she extends her hand. The smushed pair begins to pry itself away from the fabric of his clothes. With a light wiggle of her fingers, it levitates in the air between them, twirling slightly. “I should have stopped that.”  
  
  
After a few seconds of Ben still not answering, Rey looks up. What she sees surprises her.  
  
  
His attention is focused intently on her fingers, the pair, and the invisible strings that hold the two of them together. Something in his gaze, if she didn’t know any better, looks hungry.  
  
  
“Ben?” She asks, dropping her hand. The remnants of the pair collapse on the ground between their boots.  
  
  
Like a spell being broken, his head snaps up.  
  
  
"Leave me alone,” he whispers.  
  
  
“What-?”  
  
  
He doesn’t acknowledge her further, shoving past her and down into the darkened streets surrounding the university.  
  
  
Rey watches him go, wondering what just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to fei/ignitesthestars for the "must be the other half" line <3


	5. Chapter 5

**27 ABY  
** \--  
  


She is not nervous _._ Her bed’s just floating.  
  
  
Rey walks alongside the long edge of her mat, now hovering at about hip’s height. She doesn’t spare it a glance, teeth biting down into her thumb nail as she paces the same six feet back and forth.  
  
  
“Stop it,” grumbles Barra, her nearest mat-mate, from under her pillow. “Or I’ll stun you.”  
  
  
Rey’s feet pause for only a moment, before they begin walking again.  
  
  
“ ** _Rey,_** ” she growls, shoving the pillow aside and glaring at her.  
  
  
She balks under Barra’s look. Devronians have mastered “withering stare” a few millennia ago, she’s sure.  
  
  
“Okay,” she concedes. “I’ll go for a walk.”  
  
  
" _Good_."  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The Temple at night is never still, but there are less people around than during the day. She sees the low lights of the archives, where a few initiates are undertaking late night study sessions. She knows, guiltily, that she should be among them. But Rey’s never had much use for philosophy growing up, never understood the values of debating something already settled on centuries ago.  
  
  
She’d rather work toward making something new.  
  
  
“Up late, aren’t we?” She pauses, looking up to only see Master Kenobi standing before her. He is smiling, amused she thinks.  
  
  
Rey rubs the back of her neck. “I tried to sleep,” she offers.  
  
  
Master Kenobi stares at her for a few moments, before recognition dashes across his face. “Ah, yes. It is time to prepare for your initiate trials soon, isn’t it?”  
  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
  
“Trust in your training,” he offers kindly. “The result will be as the Force wills it, regardless.”  
  
  
“Yes, Master,” she mumbles. But something won’t leave her alone. She glances up. “What if I’m not chosen by a Master? What if I can’t be a Padawan?”  
  
  
“To think, a few years ago that was all you wanted." He gives a dry chuckle, before rubbing at the beard on his chin contemplatively. "There is no shame in joining the Jedi Corps, or returning to civilian life,” Master Kenobi states. Then he winks. “But I think your chances of finding a Master are good, young Rey.”  
  
  
Her eyes widen. “ _You_?!”  
  
  
His eyes widen in the same way, as though the idea of going through it _again_ is simply too large a headache to comprehend. He coughs. “Ah, no. I’m afraid my days of taking on padawans are behind me.”  
  
  
Master Kenobi pats her shoulder paternally as he walks by.  
  
  
“It is Master Skywalker who has expressed an interest in your training,” he clarifies. “But such discussions are for another day. For now, merely focus on the _present._ ” His eyes glint. “And the archives you should review before your exams.”  
  
  
Rey stares at him. Then the archive. Before she slowly nods.  
  
  
“Good luck on your Jedi Initiation Trials, Rey. We are all counting on you.”  
  
  
She breathes, and forces herself to walk toward the rows of datafiles instead of back to her comfortable mat. It is with a strange, giddy sort of smile that she grabs her first holocron.  
  
  
 _Master Skywalker wants to train me.  
  
  
_ \--  
 **34 ABY  
** \--  
  
  
“Why does he hate Jedi?”  
  
  
It’s not the most diplomatic of starts. But thankfully it has enough diplomacy for the both of them.  
  
  
“Pardon me, Mistress Rey?”  
  
  
She sits on the railing of the balcony outside her room, chin cradled on her hand as she watches the city of Theed wake up underneath her.  
  
  
“Ben Solo. He hates the Jedi.” Rey reaches down and takes a sip of her caf, the cup something the unassuming protocol droid had delivered her. “I can’t figure out why. There are no tensions between the Order and Naboo, and Anakin and Padme were friends-”  
  
  
“I’m afraid it goes against my programming to...to _gossip,_ Miss,” it states, beginning to frantically shovel caf acoutrements back onto a tray. Rey watches the sugar go with sad eyes.  
  
  
“Threepio,” she begins, using a nickname in the hopes of disarming the anxious thing. “I’m a Jedi Knight tasked with protecting Ben Solo."  
  
  
She flashes a smile that she doesn’t know the droid has seen thousands of times before on his Maker. One that only means _trouble._ “How can I protect him if I don’t know why he hates what I am?”  
  
  
C-3PO hesitates. “Such discussions are better taken up with Master Solo, Miss Rey.” It leans back. “I am a simple protocol droid. It is not my place to-”  
  
  
“But who better to tell me the truth about Ben than his…” she takes a wild guess, “Oldest friend?”  
  
  
“O-oldest friend?” It tilts its head, awed. “Why- why yes! I _do_ suppose that’s me, isn’t it? Oh, how marvelous!”  
  
  
“Very marvelous.”  
  
  
The droid sighs, an affection she has not seen in a droid before. “Perhaps...a little insight wouldn’t hurt.” It brings up its unbending arm as though scolding her. “But you musn’t let Master Solo know I’ve told you this. He would be dreadfully upset.”  
  
  
“I promise,” she says, fighting down a victory smile.  
  
  
“Very well.” The droid sets down the tray. “I believe it all began when Master Solo was a young boy…”  
  
  
Rey stares at the droid as it pauses.  
  
  
“I...I’m sorry,” the droid tilts its head. The lights of its ocular lenses flicker. “But there is a block prohibiting discussions of this nature.” It rights his head. “Perhaps I should try…No...No that won’t work either."  
  
  
Her brows furrow. “Who put the block on you?”  
  
  
“The Maker.”  
  
  
“And who made you?”  
  
  
Once again, its lights flicker. “Dreadfully sorry, Miss Rey. But it seems as though you really _must_ speak with Master Solo or Madame Amidala about these matters.” It tilts its head again. “More caf?”  
  
  
She waves her fingers. “No, that’s alright. Thanks.” She blows a string of wayward hair out of her face, looking down at the small figures of merchants and pedestrians beginning to fill the streets.  
  
  
Why would there be a block on a  _protocol_ droid?  
And who put it there?  
  
  
\--  
  
  
It’s becoming more difficult to draw the line between guarding and stalking. Part of her would feel bad about it, but he hasn’t been a cooperative charge and this…  
  
  
This is just recon.  
  
  
She follows Ben as he leaves his apartment, his tall form easy to spot in the crowd. He goes to the market, buys some groceries ( _pairs,_ she notes happily, are among them). Then he spends some time in the Amidala Botannical Gardens. Too much time. He’s been staring at the same fern for about forty minutes-  
  
  
Ah. Rey sighs.  
  
  
And steps out from behind the foliage. The enclosure of this part of the gardens is warm and lit by the sun. It streams across his face, revealing his black hair to actually be a shade of dark brown.  
  
  
“How long have you known?” She mutters, trying her best not to sound annoyed. She thought herself quite good at stealth, when the occasion called for it.  
  
  
“Ten seconds after I left my apartment,” he says darkly.  
  
  
He is less angry than last night, and she wonders what’s changed.  
  
  
Because of that curiosity, she hazards a step closer. “What brought you _here_ , then?”  
  
  
He turns, looking at her with an expression she can’t decipher. “I needed to think.”  
  
  
She waits for him to elaborate, and he doesn’t. Finally, she sighs, hooking her thumbs over her belt. “About?”  
  
  
“You.”  
  
  
Rey blinks. “...me?”  
  
  
He stares at her, that same inscrutable look on his face. The attention makes a soft ‘v’ form between her brows. “I want you to tell me about your Master.” He lowers his head, and his voice is soft. “Whatever you know.”  
  
  
“Why?”  
  
  
There’s a brief clenching of his jaw, a tell of annoyance. “I want to know why you’re still here.”  
  
  
Rey bites down on her lip, looking up as she tries to reign in patience. “I’ve told you.”  
  
  
“Not everything.”  
  
  
“Because there’s not much else to tell.” Before she thinks about it, she lightly grabs his arm. “You have to trust me, Ben. He wouldn’t send me here without reason.”  
  
  
He looks at her arm as though it’s foreign to him-- a little startled, a little uneasy--and Rey suspects she’s just made a huge breach of etiquette.  
  
  
She clears her throat, dropping her hand. “Sorry.”  
  
  
He stares at his arm for a second longer, before turning his attention sharply back to her face.  
  
  
“My grandmother says you’re not here under the Council’s orders.” His stare is flat, dark. “Is that true?”  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
His stare doesn’t break. “If you’re lying, I _will_ find out.”  
  
  
She shrugs. “Fine?”  
  
  
He takes a deep inhale, then steps back. “I don’t want you following me.”  
  
  
Rey closes her eyes. _Patience. Sympathy.  
  
_  
“I don’t blame you,” she agrees. “But there’s not really an alternative.”  
  
  
“Other than you going back to your temple.”  
  
  
“Which I’m not doing. I think we covered that last night.”  
  
  
“So the extent of your strategy is to stalk a public official.”  
  
  
“It’s reconnaissance.”  
  
  
“Not according to Nabooian law.”  
  
  
“I believe I have diplomatic immunity,” Rey says with a hint of a smile. “Jedi, and all that.”  
  
  
He crosses his arms. His outfit is less grand than it was the day before, a dark green tunic embroidered with gold over sage trousers. He looks, she thinks, a little bit like a gardener.  
  
  
“Ben,” she breathes, trying her best. “I _am_ here to help you. I promise.”  
  
  
“What I can’t understand,” he near growls, “Is _why._ Why now?”  
  
  
“I wish I knew.” She runs a hand through her hair. “But Anakin believed you were in danger. That you’d need saving.”  
  
  
“And you’re the one to do it,” he deadpans.  
  
  
Despite herself, she smiles a little at that. “Yes, I’m stronger than I look.”  
  
  
He looks at her arms, bare from the sleeveless tunic she’s wearing, and then quickly looks away. Back to the fern. “My grandmother told me it was in my best interest to cooperate with you.”  
  
  
That might explain the lesser hostility this morning. “And what do you think?”  
  
  
“That I want you off Naboo as soon as possible.”  
  
  
“I can work with that.” She offers her hand. “Maybe, then, we start over? I’m Rey, Jedi Knight and temporary bodyguard.”  
  
  
Ben hesitates, but then his hand gradually clasps hers. “Ben Solo, Minister of Housing. Do your job as soon as possible and leave.”  
  
  
She relaxes her grip, and he hangs onto the contact for a second longer before doing the same. “Let’s talk about your schedule, then.”  
  
  
“Not today.”  
  
  
Apparently this is the end of the discussion, because he’s beginning to walk away. Annoyed, Rey jogs to catch up.  
  
  
“Oy!”  
  
  
He keeps walking.  
  
  
“Where are you going?” She grabs at his arm again, her fingers wrapping around his wrist-  
  
  
-and he stops so abruptly she just barely avoids running into his back.  
  
  
“Let. _Go_.”  
  
  
She does. She needs that hand in order to point at the back of his head. “First rule, you can’t storm off whenever you want. If you’re being targeted, they’re more likely to strike when you’re alone.”  
  
  
“You don’t even know who’s doing the targeting.”  
  
  
She doesn’t try to hide her frustration. “Then _tell me._ ”  
  
  
Ben looks over his shoulder. “I said not today.” He frowns, as though he is unused to having to explain himself and it’s not an experience he wishes to repeat. “I’ll be in assembly. We’ll talk once it convenes.”  
  
  
“And if you’re attacked while you’re in assembly?”  
  
  
“The RSF will be there.”  
  
  
This, she supposes, she can concede. “Fine, when’s it over?”  
  
  
He looks at the chrono on his wrist. “Twelve hours from now.”  
  
  
She blinks. “That’s midnight.”  
  
  
“Yes,” he says flatly, straightening his tunic. “That’s why _not today._ Meet me after, if you’re so desperate.”  
  
  
And before she can protest or hold onto his wrist again (which seems to paralyze him), he’s walking off once more.  
  
  
Rey sighs, sending an accusatory glare toward the fern before she makes her way back to Padme’s townhouse.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Padme returns from her affairs by dinner, which she requests they take together. Rey sits at one end of an excessively long table, unsure of how to navigate the intricate cutlery before her. Sending Padme a nervous glance, she eventually settles on using a fork for everything. But the soup. That she hopes is a soup.  
  
  
“Thank you,” she manages halfway through a hunk of bread.  
  
  
Padme looks up from her wine, a small smile on her lips. She looks so terribly tired. “What for?”  
  
  
“Talking to Ben. He was…” she winces. “A lot less angry today."  
  
  
Padme nods. “I try to respect his feelings on Jedi. I’m sorry you have the misfortune of being subjected to them while doing our family this favor.”  
  
  
Rey senses an opening, and so gently begins to prod. “Why does he hate us so much?”  
  
  
Padme turns to her wine again, the hand holding it moving in a small circle. “It’s a complicated issue.”  
  
  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” She feels the defensiveness creep into her tone despite herself. “You know more than anyone that the Jedi are not cruel. Or evil.”  
  
  
Her intelligent brown eyes pin hers. “Why do you believe that?”  
  
  
Rey wilts back, though she’s not sure why. “You were friends with Anakin.” She looks down. “He was one of the better of them.”  
  
  
“I agree,” she whispers.  
  
  
There is a moment of silence. Not knowing what else to do to fill it, Rey slices into some kind of pastry on her plate.  
  
  
“You can help…” Padme begins, and Rey ignores chewing to focus in on her words. “By being patient with him.” She smiles, and it seems more genuine than the one before. “I sense goodness in you, Rey.” The smile becomes something slyer. “And stubbornness. I believe you’ll get through to him if you keep trying. If you don’t give up on Ben.”  
  
  
“I don’t plan on quitting,” Rey mutters. Not on this.  
  
  
“And that makes me relieved, more than you know.” She dabs delicately at her lips with a napkin. “I’m afraid I need to retire. Thank you again Rey, for your efforts.”  
  
  
Abruptly, Rey shoots out of her chair and does an awkward half-bow. “Goodnight, Senator.”  
  
  
Humor sparks in her gaze. “You can call me Padme.”  
  
  
Rey grins. “Goodnight, then. Padme.”  
  
  
“Goodnight.”  
  
  
The older woman moves toward the master quarters of the townhouse, and Rey waits until she’s out of sight before her face falls into one of determination.  
  
  
No one’s giving her answers.  
But she suspects someone could be persuaded.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“Threepio, come here.”  
  
  
The droid pivots until it faces her. “Miss?”  
  
  
“I need you to do something for me,” she says. The hand behind her back is holding a multi-kit.  
  
  
“Oh, of course! You have only but to ask.”  
  
  
“Let me see if I can do something about your block.”  
  
  
It leans back. “I...I do not believe that appropriate.”  
  
  
“Please?”  
  
  
It hesitates-  
  
  
And Rey reaches up and flips the switch behind its head. C-3PO’s protest dies mid-pronouncement and she winces.  
  
  
“Sorry,” she states. “I’ll give you a nice oil bath after this is over.”  
  
  
Her thumb traces the ridge of its cranial plating. Eventually, she finds the catch and she presses down on it. The face panel lifts up, revealing C-3PO’s skeletal wiring. She delicately pushes aside some wires until she can see its core processing system.  
  
  
“Stang,” she swears. “Looks like we’ve got to sit for this one.”  
  
  
With a wave of her hand, she levitates the droid down until it gently lays against the floor. Once its prone, she puts its head in her lap and begins to work.  
  
  
After a few minutes of reverse engineering, Rey finds that she...knows this work. At first it seems like a coincidence-- the same techniques used to solder wires, maybe. Or route power grids. But as she finally reaches the bypass, she notes a signature patch job, and it’s one too many.  
  
  
Her memories draw up long nights in the garage. Of workbenches and half-broken piles of junk.  
  
  
“...Anakin made you,” she whispers in disbelief. Her fingers fall slack where they’re attempting to remove the bypass.  
  
  
“He did,” comes a new voice, and Rey’s head snaps up. A stranger stands in the doorway to her room. All she can see under the large robe and hood that covers him is a chin with a grey beard.  
  
  
“Looks like you’re having fun,” he observes dryly.  
  
  
Rey swallows, unnerved at having been caught. “Who are you?”  
  
  
The old man lifts his hands to his hood, pulling it back in a smooth motion. Blue eyes shine bright under thick brows, an amused look clear on his features.  
  
  
“I’m Luke Naberrie. Who are _you_?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but important Transition chapter ahead! thank you everyone for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks <3 <3

**27 ABY** **  
** **\--  
  
** She hasn’t been to the Council’s chamber since she was a child, angry and afraid as they evaluated her potential for training. Now, it’s different. She is not as angry, not as scared.  
  
  
And Master Skywalker has a comforting hand on her shoulder as he stands behind her in the center of the room.  
  
  
Directly across from her, Master Obi Wan Kenobi sits, his expression proud. To the right of him is Master Yoda, a small smile on his face. Rey smiles back at him, then instantly tilts her chin. Proud.  
  
  
“Shall we begin, Rey?” Master Kenobi asks.  
  
  
The hand Anakin has on her shoulder gives her a reassuring squeeze.  
  
  
Rey nods. “Yes, Master Kenobi.”  
  
  
“Very well.” He clears his throat, suddenly appearing more serious. “Master Anakin Skywalker has chosen you, Rey, to become his Padawan Learner. Do you agree to uphold the Jedi Code and its tenets, to honor your master, and respect his teachings?”  
  
  
“Yes!” She blurts. Amusement flickers over some of the Council members’ faces, and she clears her throat. “Um. I do.”  
  
  
Master Kenobi nods. His gaze goes beyond her.  
  
  
“Master Anakin Skywalker, do you understand and accept the responsibilities that come with taking on a Padawan Learner? Will you teach her the ways of the Force and of the Jedi? Will you protect and guide your padawan to knighthood?”  
  
  
“Of course.”  
  
  
Obi Wan Kenobi arises from his seat. “Remember that this experience is one of growth, and should teach you both.”  
  
  
He walks over to where they stand, and passes something to Anakin over Rey’s head. Anakin takes it with his metallic hand, and after a moment Rey feels his fingers on the right side of her head. They take a small chunk of her hair, twist it, and then she feels a tie securing the beginnings of what is to be her padawan braid.  
  
  
Obi Wan takes a step back, and smiles down at her.  
  
  
“Congratulations, Rey. You’ve just taken another step into a larger world.”  
  
  
She straightens, fingers absently toying with the end of her braid. Her hair is no longer in the three buns she’s worn since before she can remember, and part of her grieves for that.  
  
  
“Come on,” Anakin says, stepping around and kneeling before her. “Let’s go flying. To celebrate.”  
  
  
She smiles with watery eyes.  
  
  
\--  
**34 ABY** **  
** \--  
  
  
She gingerly sets C-3PO’s head down before standing, brushing down the front of her tunic and attempting to look dignified. “I’m Rey, of the Jedi Order.”  
  
  
The man who introduced himself as Luke takes a long look at her. Then down to the droid.  
  
  
“Remind me,” he begins dryly, “What part of the Order is responsible for ripping off the faces of protocol droids?”  
  
  
She reddens. “I- it’s-” Rey puts her hands on her hips. “It’s not like that!” Then, under her breath. “I’m going to put it back.”  
  
  
“I see.” His eyes seem to pin her to the spot. “That droid was my nanny, you know.”  
  
  
“But you’re old,” she blurts without thinking.  
  
  
Luke raises one eyebrow. Then the other.  
  
  
“Let’s try another question.” He leans forward. “Why are you in my room?”  
  
  
She looks around. There’s nothing in this space to imply that it belonged to someone, other than maybe a nondescript workbench in the corner. She narrows her eyes.  
  
  
“I...was invited?”  
  
  
“By who?”  
  
  
“Padme Amidala.”  
  
  
Luke keeps his stare trained on her. “You said Anakin, earlier. Did you know him?”  
  
  
“Yes, he was my Master.”  
  
  
He looks like he was expecting the answer, but is annoyed by it. “Stay here. Fix my droid.”  
  
  
Rey blinks. “What? Where are you going?”  
  
  
“To talk to my mother.”  
  
  
He strides out of the room. Rey hesitates for just a second, before she steps over C-3PO and chases after him.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Luke, and Rey by extension, is only a few steps into the main hall when a figure comes darting down the stairs in a pearlescent nightgown.  
  
  
“Luke!”  
  
  
Rey has only seen Padme rush forward once before-- when trying to reach Anakin’s bedside. This time, it is toward the bearded man, who readily opens his arms. Padme falls into them, her cheek pressed to his chest and her body sagging forward. The stranger’s expression softens, as he rests his chin on top of hers and wraps his arms around her-- one of them, Rey notices, is mechanical.  
  
  
“Hey, mom,” he whispers gently.  
  
  
“What are you doing here? And _so late_?” She steps away from him, holding onto his forearms. “I thought you were doing remote training?”  
  
  
“I was,” he says. “But I started back the second I felt it.” He gives a thin smile. “Leia’s on her way, too.”  
  
  
Padme frowns. “From Alderaan? But her important diplomatic mission-”  
  
  
“We figured you’d want to see us.”  
  
  
“Yes,” she says softly, stepping into another hug. “Yes, of course.”  
  
  
When Luke’s hand begins to rub small circles into his mother’s back, and Padme’s small sobs start to echo in the hall, Rey knows she’s intruded. Quietly, so as not to be noticed, she takes a step back and decides maybe she ought to repair a protocol droid.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“What is it? What’s happened?” C-3PO demands once its ocular lenses light up. “Oh, Miss Rey, I have the most _dreadful_ of headaches!”  
  
  
She winces. “About that…”  
  
  
“It’s as though my core processor’s been violated-”  
  
  
“Threepio…”  
  
  
“Without my knowledge! I simply cannot imagine who would do such a  _terrible_ thing-”  
  
  
Rey clears her throat. “Where can I get you an oil bath?”  
  
  
The droid halts, interest obviously perked. “An oil bath, Miss Rey? For me? Oh, I couldn’t possibly-”  
  
  
She looks him dead in the eyes. “I opened up your cranial plate because I wanted to remove a bypass block.”  
  
  
It stares at her for a long time.  
  
  
“...There is a maintenance spa two blocks down.” It somehow manages to sniff. “I would like a _three_ hour treatment.”  
  
  
Rey thinks about the embrace she just witnessed. No doubt Padme and Luke could use some time to themselves. And she _was_ technically occupying his quarters.  
  
  
“Deal.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
She sits in the waiting room of the maintenance spa for the lack of anywhere better to go. In the distance, she can hear C-3PO’s exclamations of “ _Wonderful!_ ” echoing around the spa as it no doubt begins its treatment.  
  
  
Her thoughts replay the events of the day, some events snagging at her senses more than others.  
  
  
Anakin had made the droid. The one that was supposedly Luke’s _nanny._ It was clear that his friendship with Padme had been going on for longer than Rey had been alive.  
  
  
So why didn’t he...ever mention her?  
  
  
Rey bites down on her lip, trying to banish the small thoughts of rejection that hit her. It’s as though Anakin had a whole other _life_ that he kept secret from her, his padawan. She had thought…  
  
  
She had thought they were a family. That he could trust her with his friendships outside the Order.  
  
  
Rey closes her eyes, forcing herself to think past the moment of self-pity. It. It wasn’t the time for that. There would be plenty opportunity after she saved Ben from whatever was out to get him and she was back on Coruscant. Alone again.  
  
  
She exhales.  
  
  
“Stupid,” she mutters. “Don’t get distracted from the mission.”  
  
  
Rey exhales. “ _Focus._ ”  
  
  
Anakin had made the droid, and installed a bypass block to keep it from talking about Ben’s feelings on the Jedi. Why?  
  
  
She hunches forward in her seat, chin cradled on the heel of her hand. Luke, Padme’s son, had just arrived from somewhere remote. Someone named Leia was also coming from Alderaan. She could assume that they were here to comfort Padme, who indeed seemed to be taking Anakin’s loss just as hard as Rey’s…  
  
  
She frowns.  
  
  
Luke had said he _felt it.  
  
  
_ Not heard about it. Or seen it on the holos.  
  
  
 _Felt.  
  
  
_ Rey tries to level out her breathing, to let the Force guide her thoughts as best she can.  
  
  
If he felt something…  
  
  
Her brows furrow. Could Padme’s son be Force sensitive?  
  
  
It would explain a few things. The secrecy. Perhaps why Padme and Anakin became so good of friends. While she loved her Master, she was aware of his flaws. An inability to follow the bureaucratic processes of the Order first among them. It wasn’t impossible that he knew about Luke. Had helped Padme with keeping her son from Jedi training.  
  
  
Her eyes widen.  
  
  
If Luke was Padme’s son, then…  
  
  
Was he Ben’s father?  
  
  
Rey looks at the chrono at her wrist. It’s late, in a half hour it will be midnight. She could catch him.  
  
  
She bolts out of her seat, rushing up to the counter. “I’d like to pay for C-3PO’s treatment.”  
  
  
The service droid pivots toward her. “Of course, it will be 875 credits.”  
  
  
Her eyes widen. “ _How_ much?”  
  
  
“Eight hundred. Seventy. Five. Credits.”  
  
  
Her nose wrinkles. “I could have done it myself for half.”  
  
  
“You did not.”  
  
  
She blows a hair out of her face. “ _Fine._ ” She transfers the money, rounding it up to 900. “When it’s done, can you tell it to return home?”  
  
  
“Of course.”  
  
  
“Thanks. Tell it I had important Jedi business.”  
  
  
“Of course.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
She doesn’t know where the assembly is _,_ so she settles for making her way toward Ben’s apartment. It’s not far from Padme’s townhouse, perhaps intentionally, and she can tell just from looking at the building that it must be expensive. There are several balconies, many of which are strewn with crystal lanterns, and armed doorman stationed on the ground floor. Not bothering to make her way in, she opts instead to sit on the railing of the walkway leading to its entrance. He’ll have to pass this way.  
  
  
Sure enough, about an hour and several offers of assistance from the doormen later, she catches sight of his tall form in the distance. Rey straightens, observing as he approaches.  
  
  
He looks...like someone who’s spent the better part of the day in an assembly. His tunic is wrinkled from sitting, and he keeps rolling his shoulders and tilting his head-- as though trying to work out a kink in his neck.  
  
  
Eventually, he becomes aware of her presence, because he stops in front of her. For a moment he just stares, as though trying to convince himself that she is actually there, before he finally presses his lips into a line.  
  
  
“No.”  
  
  
She raises her brows. “ _No_?”  
  
  
“I just sat through eight hours of gungan filibustering,” he says tightly. “I’m in no mood to indulge whatever conspiracies you’ve come up with.”  
  
  
“It’s only one conspiracy, tonight.”  
  
  
He glares at her. “Go back to the townhouse.”  
  
  
“That’s part of the problem.”  
  
  
“Why,” Ben says through his teeth.  
  
  
Rey takes a moment to decide how to begin. “I met Luke today.”  
  
  
His irritation at her presence becomes something colder. More withdrawn. “And.”  
  
  
She hops off the railing, until she’s standing barely a half foot away from him. She looks up, searching his face and his surface feelings for any indication of what he’s thinking.  
  
  
“He’s Force sensitive, isn’t he?” She whispers.  
  
  
His expression tightens and his feelings are suddenly laid before her, as though there was a shield temporarily let down. They hit her all at once: anger and fear at the forefront. But there is also wonder. And curiosity. And Rey knows that she is right about Luke, but that there’s much more under the surface. There’s...there’s something calling out to her in the dark-  
  
  
“...you are, too. Aren’t you?” She says in quiet awe.  
  
  
His eyes are wide, looking into hers. She expects a tantrum, an unleashing of fury and denial. Instead what she senses is _relief_ and _panic_ in equal parts.  
  
  
“Not here,” he bites out.  
  
  
Before she can process what she’s just discovered, he’s storming toward the door of his apartment complex.  
  
  
Dazed, she can only follow him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a lot of fun writing this chapter so i hope yall have a lot of fun reading it ;)

**28 ABY** **  
** **\--  
  
  
** She’s trying not to get frustrated. Not at her task, but at her Master.  
  
  
“Feel it, Rey.” Anakin has told her the same thing about five times now. It has not made the welding go any faster.  
  
  
She glares at the pieces arranged on the table before her: scrap metal, a power cell, modulation circuits, energy gate, emitter shroud, emitter matrix, an ignition switch.  
  
  
“How am I supposed to feel parts?” She asks, her dwindling patience evident in her tone.  
  
  
“Just. Think about it,” Anakin states. “Picture the parts converging around the crystal.”  
  
  
“I don’t even have a crystal yet.”  
  
  
“It’s a thought exercise.”  
  
  
“Why can’t I just _build_ it?”  
  
  
“That’s not how it works.”  
  
  
“Why not?”  
  
  
“Because it’s not.”  
  
  
She glares at him. He glares back at her. After a moment, he sighs, pinching the top of his nose.  
  
  
“Just. Close your eyes and try working on the modulation circuits-”  
  
  
Rey slams down her magwrench with all her twelve year old finality. She stands, the chair she’s sitting on toppling over and backwards onto the ground as she leans forward.  
  
  
“That’s. _Dangerous_!” There’s clear frustration in her voice. “If you’re not going to tell me how to do it just say so!”  
  
  
“This _is_ how you do it!”  
  
  
“I’m going to my room!”  
  
  
“Then go to your room!”  
  
  
She looks at him, wide-eyed this time and slightly betrayed, before she huffs and turns around. He scowls at the sound of her boots running down the halls.  
  
  
“Eh he hee.”  
  
  
Anakin pivots. “What?”  
  
  
Yoda doubles over from where he stands, small and clawed hand pressing against his belly. “Eh he heeeee!” He takes a step into the workroom. “Wonderful, is not the bond between master and padawan?”  
  
  
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I was never this stubborn for Obi Wan.”  


“Eh! Heh! Heeeeee!”  
  
  
Despite himself, a small, upward tug forms in the corner of Anakin’s lips.

\--  
**34 ABY** **  
** \--  
  
  
Ben Solo’s apartment is styled quite differently from his grandmother’s townhouse. There are wide, open spaces, with everything decorated in chromatium and black. It is minimalist to the point of being Arkanian, with the walls only covered in large transparisteel panels from floor to ceiling. Her own, small room at the Temple is more lived in than the entirety of this apartment.  
  
  
She crosses the room just a few steps behind Ben, who has avoided looking at her the entire time. It made for a _very_ uncomfortable lift ride to the upper-most floor where he lived.  
  
  
“Sit,” he says.  
  
  
“ _Where_?”  
  
  
He breaks his strange, pointed ignoring to shoot her an aggravated look. His hand presses against a wall panel, and black (of course) sitting lounges protrude from the walls.  
  
  
“Why not just leave those out?”  
  
  
“I wasn’t expecting company,” he says tersely. His fingers press another button on the wall panel, and the transparisteel darkens to black. Whatever it is he’s about to say or do, he doesn’t want anyone seeing in.  
  
  
It occurs in that moment, to Rey, that she doesn’t actually know him. That maybe his hatred for the Jedi is a dangerous enough thing for her to be concerned. She feels the weight of her saberstaff in its holster between her shoulder blades and calms herself. She can be dangerous, too, if she needs to be.  
  
  
“ _Sit,_ ” he mumbles, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Please.”  
  
  
She shoots him a wary look, and his strange furniture a warrier one, before she picks the lounge that looks the most stable. Rey tries to discreetly test its weight before she sits. Judging by Ben’s expression, it was not that discrete.  
  
  
“What do you know?” He starts, dark eyes finding hers. The lighting in the apartment is low and ambient, and casts shadows across his face.  
  
  
Rey frowns. “That’s an odd way to start.”  
  
  
He clenches his jaw.  
  
  
She leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “Why don’t you tell me what you want me to know? And we’ll go from there.”  
  
  
“I don’t want you to know anything.”  
  
  
Rey softens her gaze. Because she remembers the relief, the curiosity. “No. I don’t think that’s true.”  
  
  
Ben looks down at her, keeping his distance across the room. His back is ramrod straight, his arms stiffly at his sides, but his voice is quiet. “Who are you? Really.”  
  
  
She blinks. “There’s not much more to it.”  
  
  
“I don’t believe you.”  
  
  
Rey sees what this is. A way for him to be on neutral ground. And she supposes it’s only fair, that he knows something about her before she asks about what might be his largest secret. “I’m Rey, of Jakku.”  
  
  
“Where?”  
  
  
“Jak-koo.”  
  
  
He shoots her a skeptical look.  
  
  
“It’s a real place,” she says defensively. “I was brought to Coruscant when I was a child, and raised at the Jedi Temple there.” She threads her fingers together. “I was apprenticed to Anakin Skywalker after I passed my Initiate Trials, and was Knighted last year.” She tilts her head. “That’s all there is.”  
  
  
“Where’s your family?”  
  
  
“I don’t have one.”  
  
  
“So you emerged from sand.”  
  
  
She bites down on the inside of her cheek. “They _sold_ me, if you must know. To Master Kenobi, who found me there.” She shakes her head. “From what I understand, I was worth about 60 credits of drink at the local cantina.” She sends him a dark look as forgotten pain resurfaces. “Is that enough?”  
  
  
He swallows. “Slavery is forbidden in the Republic.”  
  
  
“That’s reassuring. Thank you.”  
  
  
“That’s not-”  
  
  
She sighs, cutting off whatever he is about to say. “How long have you known? About your Force sensitivity?”  
  
  
Ben looks like he clearly wants to continue the discussion about her past, which is the last thing Rey wants his opinion on. Thankfully, he manages to move beyond it. For now. “Always.”  
  
  
Her brows draw together. “Then why did you never seek training?”  
  
  
“I didn’t want it. Not from the Jedi.”  
  
  
Rey tenses. “Then from who?”  
  
  
Because, to her knowledge, there are only a few other options, and she doubts he wants to learn from the esoteric Whills or Temple of the Living Force.  
  
  
He steps forward, closer to her. “That doesn’t matter right now.” Ben’s tone becomes heavy. “You know about Luke. You know about me. What do you intend to do about it?” His eyes narrow. “Report us to your precious Council?”  
  
  
Rey considers the question, before shaking her head. “No, there’s no point to it now. The Council would deem you both too old.” She runs a hand through her hair. “And...I don’t want to do anything that might hurt Anakin’s memory.”  
  
  
Ben stills before her. “What do you mean?”  
  
  
She breaks her stare with him, finding it suddenly too intense. “If he knew about Luke or you being Force sensitives when you were children, and didn’t report it to the Council, that’s a problem.”  
  
  
Ben’s next words are careful. “...Because we’re Force sensitives.”  
  
  
She leans back on the couch, looking up at him. “Well they don’t have much interest in brooding politicians, no.”  
  
  
He looks like he wants to disagree.  
  
  
“Your father helped you, then?” Rey offers, once the silence and his just sort of... _looming_ gets to be too much for her. “With the Force?”  
  
  
Ben snorts. “Hardly.”  
  
  
“Sorry. I just figured since you and he were both sensitives-”  
  
  
Disgust crosses his face. “Luke’s not my father.”  
  
  
“Oh,” she mutters. “Oh, that’s good. You don’t look alike.”  
  
  
“What I’ve managed to learn, I’ve learned from my mother. And my uncle.” He watches like he’s measuring her, and it makes her distinctly uncomfortable. “Neither are formally trained. It’s not enough.”  
  
  
She straightens. “Enough for what?”  
  
  
He doesn’t answer, instead he just keeps _staring._ She tries to skim his feelings, but once more they’re locked away tight, and she doesn’t want to barge in without permission. She had gotten into trouble one too many times for that when she was younger.  
  
  
“What?” She finally asks. “What are you looking for when you look at me like that?"  
  
  
He surprises her with the truth. “I want to know if I can trust you.”  
  
  
“Trust me with what?”  
  
  
Ben answers her question with one of his own. “Why are you loyal to the Jedi?”  
  
  
Rey looks at him in disbelief. “They’re my family. They raised me. And I… I believe in doing what’s right.” Her tone grows pointed. “Why do you hate them?”  
  
  
He continues to ignore her. “If you had to choose the Council or your Master, which would it be?”  
  
  
“That’s an impossible question,” she says tightly. “Anakin was loyal to the Council. To Yoda, and Obi Wan, and the others.”  
  
  
“Choose one.”  
  
  
“ _Why_?”  
  
  
“It’s important.”  
  
  
Rey narrows her eyes. Angry, as an old memory hits her. “ _Fi_ _ne,_ ” she decides, hoping that playing his strange little game gets them progress. And to stop talking about it. “Anakin.”

  
  
Her jaw clenches. “But he wouldn’t make me choose between him and the Council, so it’s irrelevant.”  
  
  
“It’s not irrelevant.”  
  
  
“You don’t know anything about the Council. Or Anakin, apparently.”  
  
  
For a moment, he looks livid--flared nostrils, grinding teeth. “More than you’d think.”  
  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
  
He looks down at her. She glares up at him. For a long moment, neither of them say anything. And when Ben finally does speak, there’s no way she could have predicted what it’d be.  
  
  
“I have a proposition for you, Jedi,” he says in a cold calm.  
  
  
Rey doesn’t like how this sounds. But she gives a short nod. “I’m listening.”  
  
  
She blinks widely when he bends down on one knee. Then the other. Until they are at eye-level, his gaze intent and unmoving from her face. Rey feels the need to move back into her seat, but can’t explain why.  
  
  
“I need a teacher,” he begins. “You can show me the ways of the Force.”  
  
  
“What?” She whispers in disbelief.  
  
  
“Teach me.” He scowls. “I don’t care about the Jedi philosophies or histories. I just need…” His fingers flex where they rest on the tops of his thighs. “I want _control_.”  
  
  
“Control,” Rey echoes. “Of what?”  
  
  
Something in his eyes unsettles her. A burning that she’s amazed she hasn’t noticed before now. One that reminds her almost of Anakin, when he was feeling particularly convicted about something.  
  
  
“My power.”  
  
  
“I’m not a Master,” she says quickly, still trying to process what’s happening before her. “I’m barely even a Knight-”  
  
  
“I don’t care.”  
  
  
“If you want help, I can help you,” she promises. “I can speak with Master Yoda, or-”  
  
  
“ _No._ Not the Council!” He swallows hard. “And not my uncle or mother. There’s only you.”  
  
  
“You don’t know me at all,” she states. “I’m not a teacher. And I’ve only just completed my padawan training. There’s better out there.”  
  
  
“I know more than you think.”  
  
  
“No,” she finally decides. “Ben, I’m not qualified to-”  
  
  
“Don’t you think that’s why he sent you?!” He counters, and shock goes through them both when he impulsively grabs one of her hands. His grip is firm, hands cold and soft against her calloused ones, before he immediately drops it.  
  
  
“...Don’t you think this might be what he meant?”  
  
  
“But you hate the Jedi,” she protests. “What do you think _I_ am?”  
  
  
Her statement seems to wash over him like cold water. After a moment, he pushes himself back into a stand, eyes never breaking from her face. His next statement starts out shaky, but quickly grows more authoritative.  
  
  
“Show me what I want to know,” he starts. “Or I’ll contact your Council and tell them you’re here.”  
  
  
“What makes you think _that_ threat will work?”  
  
  
His lips press together tightly. “An errant Knight, harassing a political official without a sanctioned mission? There are limits to even the Jedi’s reputation.” His voice tightens. “Especially if I decide to lodge a formal complaint. How long until the Holonets pick it up, I wonder?”  
  
  
“I’m not harassing you.” It’s a weak protest, and they both know it.  
  
  
“You were seen outside my apartment. In attendance at my public forum. You’re staying at my grandmother’s townhouse.” His eyes flash dangerously. “There’s enough of a story there, don’t you think. Maybe something about coercion in a time of grief.”  
  
  
Frustration coils in the pit of her stomach, and she feels her temper beginning to rise. “You know that’s not true!”  
  
  
“It doesn’t need to be true.”  
  
  
She steps up, pointing a finger into his chest. “I’m here to _help_ you, you moon jockey!”  
  
  
He bats her hand away, but gentler than she expected. “Then _help me._ ” And there’s that hungry look again, the same one he sent to her hand when she levitated the pair from his clothes. “Show me what you know. Teach me how to do what you can do.”  
  
  
Rey freezes, both at the look and the statement that accompanies it. “The Force isn’t about _power_ ,” she says crisply, angered. “If you can’t even understand that, there’s nothing I can do. Nothing I _will_ do.”  
  
  
“Then what is it about.”  
  
  
“The Light. The Dark. Life. Death. The omnipresence of them all in the universe. _Balance._ ” She tries to step to the side, but he just follows her. She exhales in frustration. “Using the Force isn’t about...parlor tricks, or whatever you think. It doesn’t belong to anyone!”  
  
  
“Anyone but the Jedi.”  
  
  
“The Jedi are _protectors._ We seek the balance, despite whatever it is you believe about us.”  
  
  
“Then show me how to protect.” Ben leans down, his face close to hers. “If that’s truly your main concern.”  
  
  
“And if I refuse?”  
  
  
“If you agree,” he redirects, “I won’t stand in your way as you fulfill your Master’s mission. And I’ll tell you what I know about Anakin Skywalker.” His voice drops. “And you will want to know what I do. I promise.”  
  
  
She hesitates. Before he can back away from her, Rey raises her fingertips to the side of his forehead. His eyes widen, startled, and he tries to step away but she sends a calming wave through the Force and he stills his movement.  
  
  
She doesn’t take anything that isn’t freely offered. She doesn’t push. Instead, she just lets her perception open to his, allows what he’s feeling to flow through her.  
  
  
She tilts her head, sympathetic in a way she didn’t expect to be.  
  
  
“You’re afraid,” she says softly. “Of yourself. Of what you can do.” She frowns. “You’ve hurt someone before.”  
  
  
“Yes,” he whispers. One of his hands goes to her wrist and holds it, prepared to pull it away from his skin the moment she goes too far.  
  
  
“You think you might hurt someone again.”  
  
  
His grip is tense, but not hard. She feels her pulse rushing under his touch, hears his breathing coming in shorter inhales.  
  
  
"Yes," he confesses.  
  
  
Rey closes her eyes. “So much darkness…” she finally observes. She frowns, confused. “And loneliness.”  
  
  
The hand on her wrist lowers her touch away from his forehead, gently. He does not release her arm, even when her eyes open and she watches him in confusion.  
  
  
“You feel the same way to me,” he manages. “Which is why I think you can help.”  
  
  
She stares at his expression, the vulnerability she did not expect to find there, and slowly steps away. His fingers fall from her skin and she exhales, biting her lower lip and bringing a hand to the back of her neck.  
  
  
_What would Anakin do?_ She wonders. _What’s the right choice, here?  
  
  
_ The look she sends him is hesitant, tentative.  
  
  
“I need to meditate on this,” she settles on.  
  
  
After a long moment, he nods. “Come back tomorrow. Give me an answer then.”  
  
  
She swallows. “...Alright.”  
  
  
Rey makes to leave, then. And feels his stare on her back until the door to his apartment gently closes behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> itty bitty transition chapter once again, hoping to get the next chapter out tomorrow :D THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of your incredible comments, i'll be getting to them shortly <3

**ABY 28** **  
** **\--  
  
** “I’ve tried everything,” Anakin states in frustration. “And nothing has worked."  
  
  
Obi Wan doesn’t look up from where he’s working, a finger absently using the Force to stir his caf. “Surely not everything, Anakin."  
  
  
He ticks them off with his fingers, leaning an elbow onto Obi Wan’s desk. “Meditation. Active intervention. Positive reinforcement… _Nothing_.”  
  
  
Obi Wan brings the cup of caf to his lips-  
  
  
“I was never this difficult for you, Obi Wan.”  
  
  
-and delicately coughs.  
  
  
Anakin seems oblivious to the sound. “All she does is grow angry at me. Heedless to instruction. Or reason."  
  
  
“Perish the thought,” Obi Wan says dryly.  
  
  
“It’s as if…” Anakin frowns, as if something new has occurred to him. “She _doesn’t want_ to build a lightsaber."  
  
  
Obi Wan arches his brows over the rim of the cup as he sips. “Haven’t you asked her?”  
  
  
He shoots his former master an equally arch look. “She would’ve said something if she didn’t.”  He frowns. “All students want to build their lightsabers.”  
  
  
“Might I suggest…” Obi Wan says around an amused smile. “That you begin by getting to know your padawan?”  
  
  
“It’s not that simple.”  
  
  
“I think you’ll find, Anakin, that most things are once you learn to listen.”  
  
  
“I’m a Jedi Master,” he counters.  
  
  
“Teachers, true ones, are far more difficult to come across.” Obi Wan stands, preparing to leave. “So _teach._ ”  
  
  
Anakin stands alone in the empty room, arms crossed and short scoff escaping his lips.  
  
  
 **\--  
** **ABY 34** **  
** **\--  
  
** The door to the townhouse slides open easily after she inputs the code. But when she enters, someone’s up waiting for her.  
  
  
“Finally,” Luke breathes. He is sitting in front of a holofire, bootless feet kicked up onto a repulsor ottoman and body slumped in a hoverchair. “Shouldn’t you have a curfew?”  
  
  
Rey blinks, thrown by his presence and still rattled from her earlier conversation. “Ah...no?"  
  
  
“Come on and sit.” He is drinking something green, he glares at her over its rim as he pulls from the glass.   
  
  
She doesn’t think she wants to talk to anyone right now, not after the exchange in Ben’s apartment, but whatever it is must be important. She crosses the entrance until she gets to the sitting room, and awkwardly takes an open spot in front of the holofire. Its warm just like a real one, casting Luke and herself in oranges and reds.  
  
  
“Threepio came back. Head attached,” the old man begins.  
  
  
“I’d hope so.”  
  
  
His eyes narrow, just a bit, before he sighs and leans back in his chair. “Rey, right?”  
  
  
She nods.  
  
  
“No last name?"  
  
  
“No.”  
  
  
Luke nods. “That makes it easier for them, then."  
  
  
She has no idea what he’s talking about. “I suppose,” she hedges.  
  
  
“Mom says you’re here for Ben.” A tense silence falls at his name, and Rey unknowingly adjusts in her seat at the sound of it. “Any particular reason?”  
  
  
“Anakin said he was in danger.”  
  
  
“From what? Pirates?”  
  
  
Rey fidgets with the hem of her tunic. “He didn’t specify."  
  
  
“So you’re just going to follow him around until he’s safe from whatever it is that’s after him?”  
  
  
Rey feels a spark of temper flow through her. “I know how it sounds. But what else can I do?”  
  
  
“I’m going to guess ‘head back to Coruscant’ isn’t in the cards?”  
  
  
“No.”  
  
  
“Figured as much. Then let’s talk.”  
  
  
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”  
  
  
“No. I mean. _Let’s talk._ ”  
  
  
Rey doesn’t know the difference, but she gives a hesitant nod. “Alright.”  
  
  
“Not now. I’m tired after waiting up.”  
  
  
“Then when?”  
  
  
He folds his hands over his stomach. Looks up at the ceiling. Twiddles his thumbs. And when he looks at her next, it is with a stare that is far too knowing. “Why don’t you attend to your important Jedi business tomorrow. We’ll talk afterwards.”  
  
  
Rey’s mouth goes dry. “...alright.”  
  
  
“Good.” He doesn’t quite smile, but it’s the friendliest look he’s sent her yet. “You can keep my old room, by the way.”  
  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
  
“Sure, kid.”  
  
  
She watches him for a moment longer, waiting for him to say something else. Luke raises an eyebrow at her before he lifts his hand in a shooing motion. “Get.”  
  
  
Her eyes widen, and she is strongly reminded of Master Yoda at his most ornery. She smiles, dipping her head down in a parting nod. “Goodnight, then.”  
  
  
Rey gets up, sending him a last, confused look before she makes her way to the guest quarters.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
She is too anxious to sleep. Her conversation with Ben keeps turning in her mind, causing her to kick and turn in her bed, until the sheets are tangled up in her legs and her face is buried in the pillow. Conceding a defeat, she gets up and finds a space in the middle of the room.  
  
  
Rey rolls her shoulders, moving through some basic forms to help pass the pent up energy that has no outlet. As soon as she feels the dull ache in her muscles and a pleasant sort of exhaustion, she moves to sit.   
  
  
She told Ben she would meditate on it. That’s what she intends to do.  
  
  
Rey adjusts until she is sitting cross-legged, with the backs of her hands resting on her knees, palms turned upward to the ceiling. She knows better than to ask the Force for specific answers, but she can’t help the urge to keep her thoughts more focused than usual during meditation sessions.  
  
  
 _Should I train him?  
  
  
_ The answer, rationally, is a resounding _no._ She is not a Master, not trained in the art of teaching or instruction. She is, as she has heard so many times before at the Temple, not yet the model Jedi--too impulsive, too stubborn, too unguarded-- _”Room to grow, there is”_ as Yoda had so often remarked. To think she could teach an adult Force sensitive is nothing but arrogance.  
  
  
And Ben…  
  
  
He is so _angry._ She feels it like a brand in the Force. It’s a cloak that hovers over him, smolders like an ember and spikes quickly into an inferno. He is angry and hurt and so, so afraid that she doesn’t know if there’s anything that can be done to salvage it. She thinks of the loneliness she felt, the touch of his hand on her wrist, the feeling that there is something _there_ that is crying out for her to hear it.  
  
  
She _can_ hear it. Maybe that’s what unsettles her. Because Rey knows loneliness, better than most. She felt it as a child. She felt it after Anakin’s passing. And she knows hunger. She knows the look he sent her hand after levitating the pair, has sent that same stare to ships as they passed through Coruscant’s airspace.  
  
  
Maybe...maybe knowing could help him. Maybe _she_ could help him.  
  
  
 _Show me what to do,_ she asks the unspeaking voice that surrounds her. _Tell me what’s my place in this.  
  
  
_ It does.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
When she leaves her trance, she’s gasping. Her hair is plastered to the back of her neck, and she feels sweat beading on her chest, back, and forehead.  
  
  
Rey tries to hold on to what she’s seen, before it flies away like pieces of a dream. Her mind replays the same images, over and over again:  
  
  
-a boy, holding on to a mechanical hand and watching blocks levitate in the air-  
-Ben, standing in the center of the Jedi Temple, with smoke in the air and fire surrounding them both as she screams something unintelligible-  
-Rey, reaching out and failing to grab his hand before it is swallowed by the darkness-  
-A figure in a sea of red, bathed in gold. Its twisted face only lets her discern pale eyes, stagnant and cold like a frozen lake, as it reaches for her with clawed fingers-  
-Ben, standing before a man who is gently touching his cheek. A red lightsaber sticks out of the stranger’s back.  
  
  
Her mouth is dry. She blinks quickly as she tries to arrange the puzzle pieces.  
  
  
The only conclusion she reaches is the one that’s most obvious:  
  
  
Ben Solo is in danger of falling to the Dark.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The sun rises. And Rey does the first thing she can think of. The datapad is in her hand, the message is written, and she is about to hit “send” before she realizes there is no longer a person to receive the transmission.  
  
  
Her thumb stills. Her eyes stare at “RECIPIENT: ANAKIN SKYWALKER” until they go out of focus.  
  
  
After a moment, she swallows, and gently sets the datapad down.  
  
  
Her Master is beyond helping her. She squeezes her eyes shut, running a hand through her unbound hair. Rey can still smell the smoke in the Temple, and she doesn’t want to pursue what that’s meant to warn her of.  
  
  
She should notify the Council. Contact Yoda, ask for his advice.  
  
  
But what would it be?  
...what if he told her to return to Coruscant? To abandon the task Anakin set for her?  
  
  
Could she live with that? With walking away from Ben and leaving him to someone else?  
  
  
Her eyes flicker down to the datapad. Anakin’s name glows in the twilight of the room.  
  
  
Anakin sent _her_ here for a reason. He trusted her with this, whatever it was.  
  
  
Ben’s words echo around in her skull. _Don’t you think that’s why he sent you?  
  
  
_ Before Rey knows what she’s doing, her feet are moving on their own. She doesn’t think. She just runs.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
He opens the door. She doesn’t meet his eyes at first, trying to level out her breathing.  
  
  
“What is it?” Ben mutters.  
  
  
She looks up. He’s wearing a long, silken-looking black tunic with red embroidery that looks less intricate than the tunic before over some loose pants of the same material. He stares down at her with a confused, sleepy expression.  
  
  
Rey, as she so often does, says the first thing that comes to mind. Honest and raw. “I think you might be right.”  
  
  
He watches her, saying nothing. She straightens her posture, rolls back her shoulders.  
  
  
“I saw you,” she states. “In the Force. You were…”  
  
  
She _feels_ him again, like she did the night before. There’s nerves, strong and potent. Whatever she is about to say _matters_ to him, though she also senses that he wishes it didn’t. He wants his connection to the Force almost as much as he despises it, and Rey thinks she is beginning to understand why her Master sent her on this particular path.  
  
  
“You’re in danger of falling to the Dark Side,” Rey tells him firmly.  
  
  
“The Dark Side,” he echoes in a deep tone, husky from just waking.  
  
  
“Yes.” She meets his gaze. “I think I’m meant to help you.” She feels just the smallest vein of excitement curl through her, a sense of purpose becoming more and more clear as she looks at him.  
  
  
“Like you said, last night. I can stop it from happening.” Rey blinks, as if the words have finally settled in her mind. “...I can stop it from happening.”  
  
  
“What,” Ben manages, “Are you talking about?”  
  
  
Her eyes search his. “I mean that I’ll do it. I’ll train you.”  
  
  
His next breath comes out softly. And Rey tries to stop the hammering in her heart as anticipation and fear flood through her in equal measure. She wonders how much of it is just her own.  
  
  
“Thank you,” he whispers as he holds onto the doorframe with one hand, and Rey knows she’s made the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [inspiration for Ben's pajamas, courtesy of ignitesthestars/fei](https://i0.wp.com/www.dressrepublic.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/drm1557-l.jpg?zoom=1.25&fit=400%2C600) :'D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluffy update cha cha cha! heading out for Work Travel so it'll be a little longer before the next update. thank you as always for your wonderful support and encouragement :D

**\--** **  
****ABY 28** **  
****\--  
  
******“I have something for you.”  
  
  
Rey looks up (down?) from her handstand. Her face is cherry-red and her tunic is soaked with sweat-- Anakin’s been making her hold the position for the last twenty minutes and every muscle in her is screaming.  
  
  
“It’s not weights, is it?”  
  
  
Upside-down Anakin smirks from where he’s sitting. The gymnasium is mostly empty, only them and a few other Knights running through Soresu forms. “Do you want weights?”  
  
  
“ _No_!”  
  
  
“Then go ahead and get out of that.”  
  
  
Happy to listen to her Master (this time), Rey kicks down into a rather graceless pile. Supine, with her limbs sprawled out to her sides, she exhales. “I can’t move.”  
  
  
“I’ll come to you, then.”  
  
  
She tilts her head back far enough to see Anakin’s approach. The old man lowers himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged near her head. His next question surprises her.  
  
  
“Do you know your lifeday?”  
  
  
Rey blinks. “I...no.” She feels a flush crawl up her neck, not sure why she’s embarrassed. “I never got one. I don’t think.”  
  
  
Anakin leans forward, like they’re sharing a conspiratorial secret. “Let’s give you one, then.” He reaches into the side of his robe. “How about today?"  
  
  
She pushes herself up with all the effort her gangly body can manage. “Today?”  
  
  
“It’s as good as any other day, isn’t it?”  
  
  
Rey smiles. Ever since their fight over the lightsaber, there’s been an awkwardness to their interactions. An older Rey will acknowledge that the estrangement is because she was pouting. Her younger self, however, is convinced it’s because he’s mad at her.  
  
  
“Yes!”  
  
  
“We have something of a tradition, in the Jedi.” He withdraws something, holding it in the palm of his closed hand. “On a padawan’s thirteenth lifeday, they’re supposed to spend the day in meditation, reflecting on their past so that they might move forward in their future.” He grins. “But that’s boring. So why don’t we skip straight to the gift?”  
  
  
Something stills in Rey at the word. _Gift._ It’s as foreign to her as so many other words-- _mother, father, home._ She exhales, her eyes burning.  
  
  
Anakin’s expression softens. “Are you alright?”  
  
  
She bites down hard on her lower lip, and gives a shaky nod even as tears start to crawl down her face.  
  
  
He smiles, his next words gentle. “This was given to me by Obi Wan, and it was given to him by his Master, Qui Gon Jinn. Now, it’s your turn to have it.”  
  
  
Slowly, he unfolds his fingers.  
  
  
In the center of his hand is a stone. It is smooth and black, threaded with thin, red veins. Rey stares at it, then glances up to Anakin’s face--unsure.  
  
  
He grabs one of her hands, folding her fingers around it.  
  
  
The stone pulses in her grip, warm and comforting. She exhales, awed, as she rotates her closed hand. It hums in the Force, a song of Light and Hope and, above everything else, Love _.  
  
  
_ “I...I can feel it,” she whispers.  
  
  
“It's a family heirloom. And...it’s for your lightsaber,” Anakin explains in an equally quiet tone. “That is, if you still want to make one.”

  
She looks up through bleary eyes. She _knows,_ deep within her, how important this stone is. How much tradition is invested into it. She holds it tight, her fingers turning white.  
  
  
“I’m going to make the best one!” She promises. “I won’t let you down."  
  
  
Anakin nods. “I know you won’t.”  
  
  
She clutches the stone to her chest as he extends his hand, ruffling her hair.  
  
**  
\--  
****ABY 34** **  
****\--  
  
  
** The pair explodes.  
  
  
Rey has just enough time to bring her forearm up in front of her face, blocking the spray of it with a quickly drawn Force shield. Ben is not so lucky. The detonated fruit coats his hair-- done up in wind braids and small, silver ornaments for his later political appointments--then drips down his face to land on his fitted, leather tunic that no doubt costs more than Rey’s entire wardrobe.  
  
  
He glares at her between chunks of ruined food.  
  
  
She stares back, wide-eyed as she slowly lowers her arm.  
  
  
He presses his lips together, then says in what is possibly the driest voice she’s ever heard. “This did not work.”  
  
  
She takes in his expression, his political finery, and the small circumference of the pair’s blast zone on the floor of his apartment and before she can help herself a snort escapes. Then another. And finally, a quick laugh that starts in her belly and seems to burst out of her chest despite any efforts to play at serene teacher.  
  
  
He doesn’t smile in return, not quite, but she thinks she sees something tugging at the corner of his mouth.  
  
  
With a lazy flick of the wrist, Rey pries away the remnants of the fruit from his shirt for the second time. Like last time, he watches her hand as she does so, and she’s somewhat disappointed to find that the same intensity remains. It troubles her, this eagerness to learn, which seems to go against everything a teacher should hope for.  
  
  
If she can count herself a teacher, that is.  
  
  
The soft expression on his face falls, something that might be bitterness or resentment crossing it instead when he sees how easy it is for her to manipulate the fruit with the Force.  
  
  
“We’re going too slow,” he bites out.  
  
  
She sends him a wary look. “I don’t think you’re ready for rocks yet.”  
  
  
“That’s the next step? _Rocks_?”  
  
  
“They’re heavier than the fruit?"  
  
  
Ben frowns in his seated position across from her, his arms and legs still folded. The pair of them, as well as what’s left of _the_ pair, are on the floor in his apartment, the shades drawn. It’s only been two days since she made her offer, and it’s their first _real_ lesson. Not knowing where else to start, Rey figured levitation was simple enough. But this is the fourth fruit he’s exploded and she’s drawing dangerously low on snacks. Time for a strategy change.  
  
  
“What are you thinking about, when you look at it?” She asks quietly, tilting her head to the side. She is positioned similarly to Ben, although the backs of her palms rest on the tops of her knees.  
  
  
He looks down at her, his frustration evident on his face no matter how hard he tries to mask it. “I’m thinking about lifting a fruit in the air.”  
  
  
Rey exhales, annoyed. “Not in the literal _.”_ She waves her hand over the small, splatted circumference of what used to be the fruit. “When you think of the Force, what does it look like? What do you see in it?”  
  
  
At his silence, she looks up to watch his face. He says nothing, but his jaw is visibly clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed.  
  
  
“Ben?”  
  
  
His attention snaps to hers. He scowls. “What does it matter?”  
  
  
“You’re not going to lift the fruit without first understanding the fruit’s place in the Force.”  
  
  
“Are all Jedi teachings so illuminating?”  
  
  
She bites down on her lower lip as she exhales in frustration through her nose. “It makes sense!” She outstretches both her hands, still palms up. “Here.”  
  
  
He stares at her hands, then up at her face. Frowns.  
  
  
“Grab my hands,” she says as patiently as she can manage. It still manages to come out grated.  
  
  
“...Why?”  
  
  
“It’s not that hard, I’ll show you.” She gives her hands a shake, as if to emphasize they’re still there.  
  
  
He seems uncharacteristically nervous. After a moment, he hovers his hands over hers. They cover the expanse of them, and over onto her wrist, and there’s the slightest sensation of heat between their palms. If she were looking, she would see the careful look he’s sending her, one that expresses a war between anxiety and anticipation.  
  
  
But she isn’t looking, and instead she moves her hands up to wrap around his. Her fingers barely reach across the expanse of his palms, but she’s able to hold them. He doesn’t move for a moment, but then his fingers swallow her own palms as the clasp onto each other.  
  
  
“Ready?” She asks, oblivious to the way his stare is transfixed on where she’s holding him. “Close your eyes, and I want you to imagine an ocean.”  
  
  
“An ocean,” he echoes. His voice has a slight hitch to it.  
  
  
“It’s what I used, when I was starting meditation,” she clarifies. “Something about the tides, I think. I’m going to try projecting the image into your mind--don’t be afraid.”  
  
  
“I’m not afraid.”  
  
  
“Well, good then.” She rolls back her shoulders. “Here we go.”  
  
  
Rey closes her eyes, and the image comes to her as easy as breathing. She used to dream of it when she was a child on Jakku, when it was too cold or she was too hungry to fall asleep. The gentle waves, the ambient noise of birds and the tide. Once she’s sure she has it, she gives it a gentle push through the Force--a message sent along an invisible wire between them.  
  
  
“I see it,” he whispers in awe.  
  
  
She smiles. “Just focus on it for a moment. Let it quiet everything else.”  
  
  
After a second, the image begins to change, to morph itself to Ben’s mind. The waves are no longer gentle, but rough. They hit the rocky coast with white-capped crests, coming in stronger and stronger. It begins to rain-- she sees the distant flash of lightning.  
  
  
“Not like that,” she warns. “It’s not about power. Calm down.”  
  
  
The storm only increases, the sky darkens. Thunder booms so loud she feels its vibrations down her spine.  
  
  
Rey gives his hand a squeeze. “ _Calm_ ,” she presses.  
  
  
He grips her hand back tightly, and she’s not sure what he’s trying to communicate with the touch. “I’m trying,” he snarls.  
  
  
“Match my breathing,” she counters. “Inhale.” She takes a deep breath. After a moment, she hears him do the same. Rey holds it for seven counts. “Good, exhale.” Another five counts. “Inhale..”  
  
  
They repeat this for a few minutes, and Rey runs her thumbs over the sides of his hands in encouragement. “Good, now match the tides to the breathing, alright?” She returns her focus to the storming, turbulent ocean. “Inhale…”  
  
  
The tide retracts.  
  
  
“Exhale.”  
  
  
It crashes against the rocks.  
  
  
“Inhale.”  
  
  
A pull.  
  
  
“Exhale."  
  
  
A push.  
  
  
The rain doesn’t stop, but the thunder and the lightning does as they find a rhythm. The water crashes against the shore, but there is a pattern that she thinks will work despite its unrefined edges.  
  
  
“This’ll do,” she instructs. “Keep your breathing the same, but cast out your perceptions--think about the room, what you sense or feel within it.”  
  
  
The silence between them stretches for a few seconds, then minutes. After a moment, his voice breaks her own trance.  
  
  
“I can sense Life.” He pauses. “It’s your heartbeat.”  
  
  
She gives a low hum of approval. “What else?”  
  
  
“Light.” His voice goes quieter. “It surrounds you. Like a beacon.”  
  
  
She frowns a bit at that. “Try finding something else.”  
  
  
“No. There’s just you.”  
  
  
Rey gives a short cough, suddenly uncomfortable. “...I guess that’s a start.” She loosens her hold on his hands. “Go ahead and open your eyes.”  
  
  
She opens hers to find him already staring at her. Immediately, she looks away.  
  
  
After a moment, she drops her grip from his, and settles her hands back on to tops of her knees. “We’ll work on expanding your senses another day. For now…”  
  
  
She reaches to the pouch strapped across her waist, removing another pair.  
  
  
“...Let’s try this again.” She grins, trying to diffuse the odd tension she suddenly feels in the room. “Lucky for you I brought the other one.”  
  
  
He is silent for a few moments, before he clears his throat. “That’s a terrible attempt at a joke.”  
  
  
Her face scrunches in confusion. “What joke?”  
  
  
“The pear.”  
  
  
“...yes?”  
  
  
His ears redden, just a little. Maybe she’s pushing him too hard in the exercises? “...nevermind.”  
  
  
Rey shrugs, placing the pair in the middle of the floor between them. It lays innocently on top of the shattered remnants of three of its kin. “Do you want to do it yourself this time, or should we do it together?”  
  
  
It’s a simple question, but for some reason Ben looks as though he’s giving it far more consideration than Rey would.  
  
  
“Together,” he finally allows.  
  
  
She gives him a thumb’s up. “Very well. I’m going to float it, and I want you to catch it. Ready?”  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
Rey wiggles her fingers, raising her left hand just a little above her knee. The pair follows it, twirling in a slow pirouette. “Draw it toward you. Remember the tides.”  
  
  
Intent, Ben mimics her motions with a single-minded focus. The pair warbles in the air between them, and Rey holds her breath. _Don’t explode again. Don’t explode again. Don’t explode-  
  
  
_ Then it flies straight into Ben’s chest. It ricochets onto his lap with an echoing thunk!.  
  
  
She laughs in relief. “Progress!”  
  
  
He picks the fruit up, whole and intact, and gives it an experimental turn in his grip. “I work better with you,” he observes.  
  
  
Rey waves a hand dismissively. “You’ll get it on your own with practice.”  
  
  
Ben says nothing in return, his focus still on the fruit in his hand. After a moment, he scoffs, and tosses it at her.  
  
  
Rey catches it with an awkward fumble, unprepared for the throw. “What?”  
  
  
“You’ve been here two hours. I’m sure you’re hungry.” His brows raise. “You eat like a scavenger.”  
  
  
She’s already biting into it. “Do not!” She protests around a slightly open-mouthed chew.  
  
  
Ben’s lips tug at the corner of his mouth again. She suspects that’s what counts as a smile. “We’re going to have to train you in etiquette if you’re going to be my bodyguard.”  
  
  
Rey pauses, slowly (reluctantly) setting down the fruit. “...you’re going to let me-?”  
  
  
Ben stands, straightening out his expensive tunic and running a hand lightly over his hair. “I have to leave for a Ministry dinner in an hour. Wear something clean.”  
  
  
She blinks. “I’m going with?"  
  
  
He turns away so she can’t see his face. “Consider it a trial run.”  
  
  
Rey scrambles into a stand. “Right. I’ll. I’ll be right back then.”  
  
  
“Something _clean_ ,” he reiterates, before he storms off into a room to the side of the sitting area. He punches his hand into the console, and a door slides up.  
  
  
Rey tries to peek into it, but sees nothing before he walks in and it slides closed.  
  
  
She processes the exchange, and a wide smile breaks out on her face.  
  
  
“I can do this,” she whispers to herself, confidence in her mission finally restored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the rock's actually a Thing](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/River_stone)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall i am continuously blown away by how kind and thoughtful you are with your comments and kudos and bookmarks and recs <3 <3 <3 thank you so much! i'll be responding to the previous chapter's comments shortly <3

**\--  
** **28 ABY** **  
** **\--  
  
** “I think we’re going to try something different this time."  
  
  
Rey looks up from the workbench, shoving her goggles off her eyes to perch on the top of her head. “Good, because this isn’t working.”  
  
  
Anakin shakes his head as he sits across from her. Her eyes widen when he pulls out the lightsaber on his hip and places it on the table.  
  
  
“I’ve done some thinking,” he starts, closing his eyes.  
  
  
Rey lets out a soft gasp as Anakin’s lightsaber begins to deconstruct itself, breaking apart into little individual pieces. Soon, his side of the table looks identical to her own-- a mess of parts and scrap and one, clear crystal in the middle of it all.  
  
  
“We’re going to build them together. How does that sound?”  
  
  
She can only nod.  
  
  
Anakin grabs a power cell. Rey mirrors it on her side of the table. “First, we have to stabilize this part…”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
They work for hours, him modelling and her following. When they’re done, he gives her a silent nod of approval, and her shaking thumb pushes up the ignition.  
  
  
Her lightsaber punches into life on one side, then the other. The blades are a steady, bright blue that somehow manages to match the exact shade of her Master’s despite their crystals being nothing alike.  
  
  
“Good job, Rey,” Anakin whispers.  
  
  
She smiles like the sun.  
  
 **  
\--  
** **34 ABY** **  
** **\--  
  
  
** She returns to her room in the townhouse without any event, thrown off when the building is empty of everyone but a few servants, and a handful of protocol droids.  
  
  
“Where is everyone?” The question is meant to be to herself, and so she startles when there’s a response to it.  
  
  
“Madame Padme and Master Luke had urgent matters to attend to, I’m afraid.” C-3PO turns to her as it waters a nearby plant with a large, twisting white bloom. “Were you needing their assistance?”  
  
  
She bites the inside of her cheek, thinking. In truth, she was hoping Padme would be around. The woman was wise and well-versed in politics, and no doubt would know how to prep her for a bodyguard’s duty during a formal dinner.  
  
  
“Maybe,” she admits, “But it’s not important enough to comm.”  
  
  
“Understood.” C-3PO straightens suddenly, as though pleasantly surprised by its own idea. “Although, is there something... _I_ might, perhaps, be of assistance with?”  
  
  
She blinks. Then smiles.  
  
  
“You know...yes, actually.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“...can you run that by me again?” She grimaces. “Slower, this time.”  
  
  
C-3PO dips forward, as though its whole body is nodding. “Of course, Mistress Rey.” It pivots back to the holoprojection on the far wall, a diagram of a table glowing in blue and white lights. “Master Ben is meant to attend a state dinner hosted by the Minister of State.” It gestures to the head of the table. There is a small holophoto there, showing a severe looking woman with dark hair and high cheekbones.  
  
  
“Minister Ti'arn,” Rey supplies dutifully. On her lap is a datapad, on which she has been taking scrupulous notes.  
  
  
“ _Very_ good Mistress Rey!” C-3PO chirps, sliding its unbending arm to the place to T’iarn’s immediate right. There is a profile of a soft-looking man, white mustache fashioned into an absurd, curling style that nearly reaches his ears. “And this?”  
  
  
“Her husband,” Rey recites. Her face scrunches. “Noted fashion designer...Jedde Rohilk?”  
  
  
“Yes! Wonderful!” They go around the whole table, until at last its hand hovers over a seat in the middle of the left side. Ben’s profile looks back at her, scowling. “And, of course, this is where Master Ben will be seated.” It turned, gesturing to a spot along the wall directly behind him. “As his bodyguard, you will naturally not be invited to the table. However, you may stand at attention with the other members of retinue here.”  
  
  
“About how far back is that from the table?”  
  
  
“Hm. I imagine...10? 11 feet?”  
  
  
Rey purses her lips in thought. It was a greater distance than she was accustomed to on detail work, but she felt reasonably confident that she could cross it before anything became an immediate threat. “I can make that work.”  
  
  
“Ah, I hope this isn’t too forward of me. But…” C-3PO scuttles closer to her, the light from the console’s projection flickering and reflecting on its golden body. “Is Master Ben truly in peril?”  
  
  
Rey is always someone who can’t help being honest. “I don’t know.” And she surprises herself by following up with, “I hope not.”  
  
  
C-3PO doesn’t have the capacity to express emotion, but she somehow imagines concern on its still, unmoving face. “I suppose having a Jedi attend to him is a relief.”  
  
  
She nods, elbows resting on her knees as she folds her hands together. The pair sit in silence before she looks at the chrono on her wrist and straightens.  
  
  
“Sithspawn,” she mutters, raking fingers through her hair. “Threepio, I need another favor.”  
  
  
“Yes, yes of course!”  
  
  
“I have to leave in ten minutes and don’t know what to wear.”  
  
  
It leans away from her with a mechanical _whoosh_ that sounds suspiciously like a gasp.  
  
  
“Mistress Rey!” It bemoans. “We should have begun _hours_ ago!”  
  
  
As the protocol droid grabs hold of her arm, preparing to whisk her away to wardrobe, Rey is oblivious to her datapad dropping to the floor. She forgets it as she leaves, already running late for meeting up with Ben.  
  
  
And so she doesn’t see a message blinking on its screen. One that says _SENDER:_ _Finn.  
  
  
_ \--  
  
  
After sending a message up with the doorman, Rey decided to sit outside with the awaiting repulsor car, her hands folded neatly into the sleeves of her overrobe. For the first time since arriving, she wore the entire uniform of her Order: near knee-high boots, a dark grey and sleeveless tunic with a high collar that tapered at the waist and fell down to the mid-thigh of her form-fitting, light grey trousers. Over her hips was her ever-present utility belt, although C-3PO had polished and buffed the leather to remove the worst of its stains. Completing the picture of a respectable Jedi Knight was the slate grey overrobe that hid the holster strung across her back, the one which held her lightsaber. She didn’t have time to smooth her hair into something more intricate (which was, according to Threepio, _dreaaaaadful!_ ), but C-3PO had managed to pull the front of it into something called a crown braid, the rest of it hanging loose down her back.  
  
  
It takes her about half a standard second to realize she’s severely underdressed. Or, at least, _mis_ dressed.  
  
  
Because as soon as Ben descends from his lift, he sends her an inscrutable look that seems, above all else, _angry._

  
“You’re in your robes,” he says tightly, taking long strides until he stands before her.  
  
  
She looks at his own ensemble. He is still wearing the silver ornaments and braids in his hair, but the leather tunic has been switched for one that’s velvet and soft-looking, a deep blue in color and embroidered with intricate silver filigree all the way down to the hem. Over it, he wears a similar, asymmetrical cape with an ornate clasp. When he moves, it parts to reveal silver sleeves and a silver slash over his waist. There are small circles painted in silver underneath his bottom eyelids, perfectly centered.  
  
  
He looks like royalty. Like Padme.  
  
  
“It’s clean,” she reminds him, suddenly feeling self-conscious in a way she hasn’t before.  
  
  
He stares down at her, his eyes drifting down the length of her body.  
  
  
Rey puts her hands on her hips. “What is it?”  
  
  
His lips press together. “I’m trying to find your lightsaber.” A muscle works in his jaw. “Since you apparently think we’re going to battle.”  
  
  
She straightens. “I’m your bodyguard. And no one will see it if there’s not a need.”  
  
  
Ben sends her that strange, angry look again.  
  
  
“Bodyguard,” he repeats with a slight scoff, looking down.  
  
  
Rey frowns, not understanding the sudden tension between the two of them, when only this morning she had thought they were making progress. Maybe even starting to become friends.  
  
  
“Do you not want me to come?” She finally offers after he’s made no move either toward the car or to look at her.  
  
  
He lets out a breath, straightening his body and clenching his fists.   
  
  
“We’re going to be late,” is all he manages, before he strides past her, cape fanning out behind him.  
  
  
Numbly, Rey blinks and steps into the repulsor car after him.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The ride to the villas outside of Theed is a silent and tense one, but Rey can’t help herself from going wide-eyed and slack-jawed when she sees the manor they’re approaching. It’s _huge,_ nearly half the size of the Jedi temple. Beautiful, soft-light flowers and sculptures line the approach to it, and the same, crystalline lights she so admired in the streets of Theed shine in every window and balcony.  
  
  
“What is it?” Ben mutters to her side, as if he senses the change that’s come over her.  
  
  
“This is someone’s _home_?” She asks in disbelief. “As in, just one family?”  
  
  
She doesn’t turn from the viewport, and so misses the sidelong look Ben sends her back.  
  
  
“It’s an estate,” he says carefully. There’s a moment of silence, and then: “Do you not like it?”  
  
  
A strange question, Rey thinks, but she’s thankful enough that he’s speaking to her again that she answers. “I think it’s beautiful, in the ways that sculptures and art are beautiful.” Then she frowns, sounding somewhat sad. “I just don’t see why a family would need all that space from one another, that’s all.”  
  
  
“Space is necessary. You’d rather have them stacked on top of each other?”  
  
  
She snorts, folding her arms on the ledge of the viewport and resting her chin on them. “There is a middle ground between that and this.” Rey smiles softly. “Like Padme’s townhouse. Or at the Temple. Its grounds were expansive, but we shared rooms until we reached knighthood.”  
  
  
“We?”  
  
  
“Me and the other younglings and padawans.” She turned over her shoulder, and saw him frowning out his own viewport. “Finn and I shared quarters for almost five years, after I started training under Master Anakin-”  
  
  
“We’re here,” he cuts off, realigning the cape over his shoulder and brushing off imaginary lint. After a moment, his eyes meet hers and she frowns at the intensity in them. “They will ask questions, about why you’re here and what you’re doing with me. Don’t mention Anakin Skywalker.”  
  
  
“Why?”  
  
  
He glares at her. “Just don’t. Can you promise me this or no?”  
  
  
She glares right back, searching his face for some indication of his reasoning. Finding none, she sighs. “Fine. I can do that.”  
  
  
He watches her for another second, before nodding. “Thank you,” he mumbles.  
  
  
Then he reaches across their sitting bodies, and Rey presses her back further into the seat when his voluminous sleeve trails over her lap. His hands find the panel of the car, and the door slides open with a light, hydraulic hiss.  
  
  
Rey shoots him a look.  
  
  
“Get out,” he explains with a gritted sort of patience.  
  
  
“Right,” she mutters back, sliding out of the car.  
  
  
She stands to the side and waits for him to exit. It takes him a second longer, his outfit far more elaborate than her own. Finally he starts walking toward the threshold of the manor, and Rey follows two paces behind.  
  
  
He pauses. “What are you doing?”   
  
  
“Following you.”  
  
  
He scowls. “Walk next to me.”  
  
Rey gives a frown at that, but listens to his orders. Never, not once, has she been asked to do such a thing when working as a security detail or guardian. But if it made him more at ease, which it seemed to, she would allow him to dictate the shots on this one.  
  
  
He is tense at her side, and she feels the strange need to hold his hand or grab his arm-- something platonic and comforting, like she’s done a million times for Finn and even Anakin when they were at their most stressed.  
  
  
“Everything alright?” She asks softly, keeping her gaze trained straight ahead.  
  
  
His face becomes a neutral mask, but she hears the sharper exhale from his nose. When he speaks, it is soft and oddly vulnerable. “They hate me.”  
  
  
Whatever reservations she held flee at his words. Impulsively, her hand reaches out to the side, finds his, and gives his fingers a brief, reaffirming squeeze.  
  
  
“Hate is used by those unable to solve problems,” she says matter-of-fact, dropping her touch. “Don’t ever let it get to you.”  
  
  
He stares at her, and as they walk into the greeting area, Rey notices that the hand she grabbed flexes slowly underneath the fabric of the cape, as if trying to shake away a burn.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
A protocol droid greets them at the entrance to the dining hall, offering to take their coats. Wordlessly, Ben unclasps his cape and hands it over, but Rey pauses.  
  
  
“Mistress?” The protocol droid inquires just as Ben grinds out a “What now?”  
  
  
She clears her throat, remembering Ben’s reaction to seeing her robes. No doubt it’d increase tenfold at seeing the holster between her shoulder blades.  
  
  
“I’m...a little cold,” she offers at last.  
  
  
“I sincerely apologize on behalf of the Ti’arn estate,” the droid states in a neutral tone that makes her painfully miss Threepio’s company. “Please, allow me to take your robe, and I shall inform the internal regulation droid.”  
  
  
Ben says nothing, only keeps his eyes trained on her.  
  
  
Sighing, Rey nods. She shrugs out of the overrobe, revealing the bare skin between the tops of her shoulders to her leather forearm guards.  
  
  
And, of course, her lightsaber.  
  


Grimacing, she shrugs off the holster from her shoulders, dangling it, and her weapon, from her fingertips.  
  
  
“Um,” she says, “This too.”  
  
  
The protocol droid--and Ben--look at it, before the droid takes it with delicate hands. “This shall be returned to you promptly, Mistress Jedi.”  
  
  
Ben bristles at the title, and before Rey knows what’s happening, he’s turned and stormed into the next room.  
  
  
Confused, and unsure of what to do next, Rey simply follows him.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The dining hall makes her blink a few times. Everything is lit by bright candles, their halos reflecting off of the polished stone of the walls and the crystal of the chandeliers. Once her eyes adjust, she notices the long table that is nearly identical to the one Threepio prepared for her earlier. Mentally she makes her checklist, as she surveys those in attendance.  
  
  
The Minister of Education and her wife. The Minister of Agriculture and his son, both of whom are glaring in Ben’s direction across the table. Her gaze stays longer on the Minister of State and her husband, the hosts of the evening. The woman, who somehow looks more austere in person than in her holo, sends her a cold, calculating look that her husband seems blissfully ignorant of. Rey holds her stare for a second, before moving it along to the pair of Gungan representatives, and finally, Ben.  
  
  
He sits stoically in his seat, not touching the small portions of food on his plate. Rey frowns, knowing that must be what Threepio had called a foe paw, before she finishes her reading of the room. There's a deviation from The Plan with the empty seat between Ben and the Minister of Health-- the two were meant to be seated side by side.  
  
  
Making a final, mental note of the servers--organic and droid alike-- as well as the string quartet playing in the background, Rey makes her way from the entrance to the wall. She is somewhat relieved to see that there are several security officers there, and though she is the sole Jedi, she’s not the odd one out in other ways. There’s an open spot directly behind Ben, and she takes it, crossing her arms and beginning the long-rehearsed practice of being seen and not heard at such functions.  
  
  
Except that isn’t what happens at all.  
  
  
Thirty seconds pass, in which Rey notices Ben’s shoulders growing more and more hunched, before he stands and turns.  
  
  
He is staring at her, ears red and Rey doesn’t know what she’s done now because _she researched this_ and before she can say as much, Ben has extended his hand directly at her and this…  
  
  
This was definitely _not_ how bodyguarding protocol went.  
  
  
“Please,” he says in what Rey is quickly identifying as his Politician’s voice, “Join me, Rey.”  
  
  
It’s the first time he’s called her by name. She sends him a confused look, and he subtly tilts his head toward the front of the table. Sure enough, the Minister of State and her husband are sending her a _very_ intrigued look. Clearing her throat, Rey steps forward and places her hand in his once again. She is intrigued, not for the first time, by their size and their relative softness. He only has one, thick callus on the sides of his index fingers. Maybe from playing an instrument?  
  
  
“Thank you,” he says with a controlled tone, turning and guiding her to the empty seat ( _her_ seat?) at his side.  
  
  
Rey sends him a look reminiscent of a cornered deer, but sits as gracefully as she can manage. She feels the weight of everyone’s stares on her and clears her throat, feeling the need to make some sort of excuse.  
  
  
“Pardon me,” she manages, sending Ben a questioning glance. He does not react, and so she presses forward. “I think I’m still light-headed from barometric adjustments.” She gives her best, most earnest smile. “I’ve only just arrived from Coruscant.”  
  
  
Ben’s thumb runs over her knuckles before he releases her hand underneath the table. She’s not sure what to make of that, and therefore decides it’s a sign of solidarity and encouragement for her quick save. For whatever reason, Ben clearly does not want this audience to know she’s here as his bodyguard.  
  
  
The Minister of Health--Imera something, if Rey remembers right--coos in sympathy. “Oh, it is the _worst,_ isn’t it? I went to Bespin for a sabbatical and thought I would positively _die_ from-”  
  
  
Rey nods where appropriate, her fingers digging into the fabric of her trousers as the chittering conversation becomes less and less intelligible to her. Her eyes dart down to the plate in front of her in mild panic-- she had spent so much time prepping for bodyguard etiquette that she had no idea where to begin with _table manners_ \-- and she only snaps her attention back to the dinner conversation when someone says her name.  
  
  
“I’m sorry?” She blurts.  
  
  
The Minister of State addresses her coolly from her spot at the table. “Rey, isn’t it?”  
  
  
Awkwardly, she clears her throat. “Yes, Minister.”  
  
  
The woman, Ti’arn, appraises her clothing with such an intense stare that Rey wants to curl into herself. “...I take it you are affiliated with the Jedi Order?”  
  
  
Ben goes still beside her, but Rey can only feel relief at a strain of conversation she understands.  
  
  
“That’s right,” she says, pride in her voice. “I’m a Jedi Knight.”  
  
  
Ti'arn’s dark eyes remind her of chips of stone as they narrow. She purses her darkly painted lips, as though finding something amusing. “Oh? Well now I certainly feel foolish…”  
  
  
Rey's attention divides as several sets of cutlery are set down with her plate. She has no idea what half of them are. “...Why?”  
  
  
Ti'arn folds a finger underneath her chin, tilting her head with a sickly smile. “It’s just that when Ben requested an additional seat for a guest tonight, we assumed…”  
  
  
Ben’s body posture practically radiates tension, and Rey sends him a quick look of concern--and also suspicion. He’d said nothing about her being a plus one. What strategy was this supposed to be  
  
  
Ti'arn lifts her wine to her lips with a smile Rey might describe as coy. “Well, I suppose I have had a misunderstanding, haven’t I?”  
  
  
“That’s enough-” Ben starts.  
  
  
Rey leans forward to better read her expression. “What do you mean?”  
  
  
“The Jedi still celebrate...the monastic traditions, do they not?”  
  
  
She doesn’t understand the point of such an obvious question. “Of course they do.”  
  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ben’s fingers wrap tightly around a knife.  
  
  
Ti'arn sends a look from her, to Ben, where it stays. “However did you manage to find a Jedi on Naboo, former Senator?”  
  
  
Ben smiles tightly. “She is here on behalf of my grandmother.”  
  
  
“And your companion in the meantime?”  
  
  
Rey’s brows raise. Ben begins to slice his knife into the small fruit at the center of his plate. He takes his time with it, and Rey realizes he does so for her benefit. Abruptly, she grabs the same knife and begins the same motion--thankful, as always, that she is a quick study.  
  
  
“The friendship of a Jedi is a privilege,” Ben states and Rey knows he is lying through his teeth.  
  
  
“Not one I recall you endorsing.” Ti'arn presses her thumb into the side of her chin. “In fact, I recall several petitions submitted for a more isolationist approach to our dealings with their Council.”  
  
  
Rey shoots him a scowl. _Unbelievable_.  
  
  
“I’m in the middle of reassessing my stance,” he counters, but there’s a bite to his words now. “Rey is assisting my education in such matters.”  
  
  
“I can see how convincing the Interim Minister of Housing is a priority to the Jedi’s mission of intergalactic peace,” Ti'arn drawls.  
  
  
Across from them, the Minister of Agriculture snickers. Rey narrows her eyes at him, remembering his blustering at the public forum debate about a week ago. She knows the Jedi are meant to be above such things, but she does not like him very much. He sneers in return at her. To his side, his son is staring at her oddly and she wonders if it’s the first time he’s seen a Jedi.  
  
  
The uncomfortable tension in the room is suddenly cut by a boisterous chuckle. All heads turn to the front of the room, where Jedde--Ti’arn’s husband--sits, slicing delicately through the strange appetizer on their plates.  
  
  
“The Sihan Peach is such an exemplary fruit, is it not?” He says cheerfully, intentionally ignorant of all the strange, simmering anger in the room. He spears a piece of it on a fork that Rey tries to identify and brings it to his mouth. “Simply delightful!”  
  
  
The Gungan ambassador looks incredibly relieved. “Yes, muy muy delicious!” He begins the same process. Soon enough, others follow suit-- even Ti’arn.  
  
  
Without looking at her, Ben scrapes off a cut slice of the peach onto her plate. “Here.”  
  
  
She stares at it as though it’s a complicated puzzle. Then at him. He ignores her, and instead scrapes off another piece.  
  
  
Under her breath, in as careful of a whisper as she can manage, Rey shifts to her side. “Why are you being kind to me?”  
  
  
“I’m not.” He cuts off one more slice--half of his exemplary fruit--and puts it on her plate. “I hate Sihan produce.”  
  
  
She rolls her eyes, going to grab the peach with her bare fingers, thinking better of it, and clumsily using a fork. “That’s the first thing that’s made sense all night.”  
  
  
He grimaces at that, and before Rey can get another word in, the Minister of Education is asking the table a question about zoning policies that Ben apparently is an expert on.  
  
  
Rey is content to let the conversation drone on around her as she bites into the peach and groans at the explosion of flavor. Ben, and the Minister’s son, stare at her at the noise and she flushes down to her neck, awkwardly using the back of her hand to wipe away the juice from her face.  
  
  
“Never had one before,” she explains impishly. “The Jedi only use our own gardens at the temple.” She feels self-conscious at their stares, but not self-conscious enough to stop eating, and so she takes another bite, sighing contently.  
  
  
“Please,” the Minister’s son says, stretching across the table with a peach on his fork, “Take mine.” He smiles, stare still odd, “I don’t have the same taste for these as I have in years past.”  
  
  
“No,” Ben says for her. Rey is about to protest when he continues seamlessly. “Too much will make you sick.”  
  
  
She nods at that, relying on him to not lead her astray in this new environment. “Thanks anyways, Mister…?”  
  


“Tristan,” he supplies quickly. “A pleasure.”  
  
  
“Thanks,” she repeats stupidly, not sure what else to say.  
  
  
She’s oblivious to the way Tristan is desperately trying to start a conversation with her, as well as Ben’s clear glaring at him and his father from across the table. Instead, her focus turns to the servers, as they begin to collect their fruit plates and switch them for the next course. There’s ten in all, all of them wearing flattering outfits in a burgundy velvet. They move like trained soldiers, all plates lifted and set at the exact same times. She’s viscerally reminded of practicing forms in the Temple, how she and the other padawans would all move in the same rhythm.  
  
  
She watches as her plate is removed and replaced by another. The server’s hands shake slightly as they set down the plate, and Rey glances up at them, a frown on her face. The server, a man perhaps in his late thirties with near-white blond hair, doesn’t look at or otherwise acknowledge her before he leaves. She watches him retreat toward the kitchen, something _tugging_ on her senses, before she looks down at the plate before her.  
  
  
There is a hunk of something Rey believes is roasted bird, with some protatoes and hard, dried flowers to the side of it. Thinking that the flowers are too stiff to use a fork with, and therefore safe to eat with her hands, Rey picks one up and experimentally pops it into her mouth. The texture is tougher than she expected, almost leathery, and the aroma of it is so strong it’s bitter. But she’s hungry, and this is the least terrifying item of the night, and so she eats another after it. Then another.  
  
  
She is halfway through chomping down the last of her flowers when she realizes she is being stared at. Rey flicks her gaze up, and Ben, Tristan, Ti’arn, the Gungans, and the Minister of Agriculture are all watching her-- expressions ranging from annoyed to horrified.  
  
  
Slowly, she swallows. “Yes?”  
  
  
To her side, Ben’s voice is low and has a hint of a growl. “What are you doing?”  
  
  
“Eating?”  
  
  
He sighs, forcing the words out through his teeth. “That is an aromatic garnish.”  
  
  
“A what?”  
  
  
“...potpourri.”  
  
  
She thinks she shocks them all when she laughs. “Thank the Force. I thought it was just terrible food.”  
  
  
As if sensing that it would now be appropriate to laugh with her, instead of at her, the Minister of Education and her wife politely chuckle, and Tristan laughs so loud it’s clearly fake. Ti’arn and the Minister of Agriculture do not share in the amusement. And Ben just sighs again as he tries and fails to hide the little tugging corners of his mouth.  
  
  
Rey keeps the smile on her face for as long as she is able, counting down the seconds until this horrible evening is over.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
They are on to some kind of cheese plate when things once again become uncomfortable. The string quartet is playing in the background-- a soft sound that betrays the real attitudes of the dinner-- and Rey has been occupying her time listening to _it_ instead of _them_ when, once again, someone calls her name.  
  
  
“Knight Rey?”  
  
  
“Hm?” She brings herself back into the present, unsurprised when Tristan is once again watching her. “What?”  
  
  
He leans away slightly, as if physically taken aback by her abrupt tone. Then he clears his throat. “I was wondering if you might be so kind as to give us a demonstration.” There is something in his expression that she does not like, something in the even, white of his smile she does not trust. “It is such a rare thing to see a Jedi in Theed.” He smiles wider. “Especially one such as yourself.”  
  
  
She is vaguely aware of Ben abruptly cutting off his conversation with the Minister of Education to watch them closely. But she doesn’t pay attention to his grinding teeth or narrowed eyes as she turns instead to Tristan, unsure if she should be offended.  
  
  
“I’m a full Knight,” she starts carefully, not sure what is meant by the ‘such as yourself’ comment.  
  
  
“You must be quite talented, to be a Knight at such a young age.”  
  
  
She sends him an incredulous look. “Most padawans are Knighted after their 18th Lifeday.”  
  
  
“Is that how old you are? Eighteen?”  
  
  
“Nineteen,” she mutters back, confused.  
  
  
“Is there a point to these questions?” Ben cuts in, “Or are you content to interrogate my guest?”  
  
  
Tristan sends a cold look to Ben that Rey files away for later reference. “Simply trying to make conversation. As you said, the friendship of a Jedi is a privilege.”  
  
  
“What did you mean by a demonstration?” Rey interjects, suspecting where this line of conversation is going and wishing it wasn’t.  
  
  
The man’s face brightens, and he leans across the table. “I’ve heard that the Jedi are capable of a great many wonders.” His brows lift. “Some say you can even lift objects with the power of your mind.”  
  
  
She shrugs. “This is true.”  
  
  
“May I see?”  
  
  
Rey sends him a look. There is something about him that is making her uncomfortable. “I would rather not,” she states.  
  
  
“It doesn’t have to be a dramatic thing,” Tristan presses. “Maybe a piece of fruit?”  
  
  
And now she is definitely uncomfortable. “My Jedi training is not a parlor trick,” she manages, taking a sip of the wine before her. “I don’t intend to perform for you as though it is.”  
  
  
“But-!”  
  
  
“She said no,” Ben snaps.  
  
  
His tone is so abrasive that it catches the attention of the table. He ignores them, intent on staring down Tristan as Rey fiddles awkwardly with the halfway eaten cheese on her plate. After a long moment, the man clears his throat.  
  
  
“I appear to have overstepped,” he says diplomatically, but there is something dark about the way he watches Ben and Rey suspects this is not their first altercation. “Forgive me my curiosity, Lady Rey.”  
  
  
“It’s just Rey,” she says calmly, using her cloth napkin to cover up the rest of the food she didn’t like. “And it’s fine.” Rey nudges Ben’s knee with her own under the table, and he startles as if shocked. “It’s fine,” she repeats slowly for emphasis.  
  
  
The servers begin to move around again, collecting plates. Rey watches as her server, the same one with the shaking hands, grabs her old one and exchanges it for a bowl of what must be soup. As he sets it down, he is still trembling and Rey delicately decides to investigate.  
  
  
She brushes against his mind, slowly at first, and then with a gentle push. She only gets snippets-- his name is Aalto, he is not from Naboo, he is…  
  
  
“You’re scared,” she whispers to him. “Why?”  
  
  
He stares down at her, a “v” between his brows and a sweat starting to form on his temples. Whatever he is about to say, he does not want to tell her.  
  
  
“I didn’t know there’d be a Jedi here,” he starts.  
  
  
“Why does that matter?” She asks softly. She goes to brush her fingers against his wrist, finding these kinds of interrogations easier with physical touch-  
  
  
And he withdraws as though burned, his eyes connecting with hers and the stink of his sweat and the trembling of his hands increases.  
  
  
“Don’t,” he begs.  
  
  
Before she can ask what she isn’t supposed to do, he retreats. Rey moves as if to stand, but she’s stopped by fingers at her wrist.  
  
  
“What is it now?” Ben says in a tone that clearly conveys he has about had it with this evening.  
  
  
“I think there’s something wrong with that server-”  
  
  
“Wrong how?”  
  
  
“I don’t know,” she admits. She looks at the soup in front of her, a bright green and unassuming. But the longer she stares at it the more she gets the feeling that something _is not right.  
  
  
_ “Ben,” she manages.  
  
  
His annoyance melts away at whatever he sees on her face, instead becoming concern. “Rey?”  
  
  
She inhales shakily. A chill runs down her spine. “Don’t eat it,” she mumbles, sounding distant even to her own ears.  
  
  
“...what?”  
  
  
“The soup.” She flares to life as clarity hits her, standing up so abruptly the chair falls down to the floor behind her. “Don’t eat the soup!” She yells, slamming her open palms on the table.  
  
  
“Explain your companion’s hysterics, Ben,” Ti’arn says in a clipped tone.  
  
  
“I mean it,” Rey presses. She looks across to where the Minister of Education’s wife is bringing it to her lips. With a downward slash of her arm, the spoon flies from the woman’s mouth and clutters to the floor. “Don’t!”  
  
  
“Sit _down,_ ” Ti’arn demands, standing up as well. “I tolerate your presence, _Solo_ , for your grandmother’s sake, but-!”  
  
  
Rey’s not listening to her, nor waiting for Ben’s reaction. Instead, she moves her hands, pulling the bowls and spoons from the attendants' mouths and seats. She doesn’t even realize that Ben has stood until his hands wrap around her forearms.  
  
  
“Explain,” he growls into her ear as he holds onto her from behind.  
  
  
“That server did something,” Rey hisses, writhing so she can get her arms free again. “To the soup. I sense it!”  
  
  
“You sense the soup,” he echoes, deadpan.  
  
  
“ _Listen_ to me-!” She cries, but their exchange is cut off by a dry, bitter chuckle.  
  
  
“Is there anything, Solo, you can do that doesn’t result in a spectacle?” The Minister of Agriculture states. His bowl rests in front of him, his spoon is already to his lips. “Let’s end whatever this _theatre_ is, shall we?”  
  
  
“NO!” Rey yells, kicking up with her feet and fighting Ben’s hold-  
  
  
The Minister sips.

  
For a long, tense moment, no one says anything. And nothing happens. Rey deflates in Ben’s hold, sagging back against him as doubt fills her.  
  
  
The Minister sets down the spoon and idly dabs at his lips with a napkin. He smirks above Rey’s head, most likely at Ben, before he lifts the bowl up between his hands. “Delicious. Let’s go back for more-”  
  
  
His eyes roll back into his head. His chin juts forward as he leans back, then forward as his bodily support abandons him. The Minister lets out a sick, gurgling noise before he scrambles at his stiff collar.  
  
  
Then he falls sideways to the floor, and lies still.  
  
  
“Father-!” Tristan yells, going to his side.  
  
  
Rey moves before she thinks. She ducks under Ben’s arms, taking advantage of the commotion to run toward the kitchens.  
  
  
“Rey!” Ben shouts behind her, but she gives him no attention.  
  
  
She shoves the kitchen’s doors open with the Force, using her perception to find Aalto’s signature in it. The staff cry around her, but she ignores them, vaulting over the counters and cook stations as she crosses the room. Rey sprints, shoving open a back exit. The door leads to what looks like a garbage chute-- she vaguely registers the shock of white hair before the server disappears down it. Swearing, she dives in after him.  
  
  
They land in a trash pile at the bottom. Rey tries to grab him, but he’s fast. His elbow connects with the underside of her chin and Rey’s head snaps back long enough for him to pull himself out of the heap and toward a ladder. Shaking away her disorientation from the blow, Rey straightens herself into a half-sit and pulls at his body with the Force. He’s picked up into the air as though he weighs less than a leaf, then thrown against the wall with enough strength to stop him. He collapses in a boneless heap, and Rey pries herself off the ground to stand before him.  
  
  
“Why!?” She demands.  
  
  
The young man stares up at her, pale eyes flashing with hate. “I’ll tell you nothing, _Jedi_.”  
  
  
“I don’t think so,” Rey says, reaching her hand forward toward his temple-  
  
  
He flinches and before Rey can stop him, he grabs something from the inside of his server’s jacket. “For the Supreme Leader!” He cries, face contorting as he plunges something into his arm. “For the Separatists!”  
  
  
“No!” Rey reaches for his mind through the Force, but it’s gone.  
  
  
His eyes roll up into his head, and he dies in much the same manner as the Minister of Agriculture is likely dead.

  
She feels tears of frustration prick at her eyes, before she slumps to her knees and stares at his blank face in the now silent room.  
  
  
Deep within her heart, she knows that Ben Solo has just survived an assassination attempt.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Anakin's new strategy to lightsaber building is informed by the idea that rey is a kinesthetic learner
> 
> -the hand flex and "exemplary fruit" bit are derived from Joe Wright's 2005 Pride and Prejudice. omg do yourself a solid and watch it if you haven't yet
> 
> -the switching between threepio/c-3po is intentional as rey starts considering the droid to be more and more of a friend
> 
> -I imagine Rey's Jedi robes in this verse are a mash-up of her Ahch-To outfit and [Satele Shan's](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/fc/71/cc/fc71cc31ae52191334c8da95f75e267f.jpg)
> 
> -[Rey's hair in this chapter (v. important :P)](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/78/38/0e/78380eb6d1a237b9b6cb1528c53e710a.jpg)
> 
> -Ben's fancy outfit was inspired by [this look](https://www.etsy.com/listing/571067221/made-to-order-veldur-kit-elven-lord) (thanks again fei!)
> 
> -Tristan is inspired by a bit character from the EU novel [Dark Journey](http://starwars.wikia.com/g00/wiki/The_New_Jedi_Order:_Dark_Journey?i10c.encReferrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZ29vZ2xlLmNvbS8%3D&i10c.ua=1)
> 
> -Rey eating the potpourri instead of the food is a gag from the Young Jedi Knights book [The Lost Ones](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Young_Jedi_Knights:_The_Lost_Ones), where the Solo kids' family friend Zekk accidentally eats the centerpiece instead of the dinner
> 
> -Aalto is from my series Crossroads, because I'm a big ole butt


	11. part two: asterisms in the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick little transition chapter as we roll into part 2! as always, thanks y'all so much for your kind words <3 <3 
> 
> just as a head's up, i'll be updating slower now that school's back!

**\--** **  
** **ABY 28** **  
** **\--  
  
** She thinks she isn’t supposed to see it.  
  
  
Rey is just leaving the sparring rooms, her sweat-soaked tunic clinging to her skin and muscles screaming with the burning pain of exertion. In her pride at finally completing her lightsaber, she’d made the mistake of challenging an older Padawan to a friendly spar. Tenel Ka Djo was descended from Dathomir warriors, and even worse, _Hapans._ As a result, there was no “friendly” in the spar. Only a beat down followed by a calmly delivered critique for improvement at the end.  
  
  
Still, she couldn’t stop the bounce to her step if she tried. The metal of her lightsaber hilt is warm against her palm. She hasn’t let go of it since its completion, fighting everyone in the Temple who was willing.  
  
  
Right now, she was on the search for Finn. Her new roommate had made himself carefully scarce after learning she had built her weapon. But he couldn’t hide forever-- especially since all the Masters gushed about his combat abilities.  
  
  
Rey is peeking her head into one of the recreational chambers when she catches sight of her Master, sitting in a nook that rests before a viewport. She’s about to cheerfully interrupt whatever he’s doing--and maybe challenge him to a spar as well--but something about his expression makes her stop.  
  
  
Anakin sits, one knee drawn to his chest, and the other leg extended across the seat. She subconsciously moves to the side of the doorway, so as not to be seen. In his hands is a model ship, one Rey absently recognizes as a T-16 Skyhopper. It should be white, she thinks, but it’s battered and discolored, a dull grey with several scoffmarks. Old.  
  
  
Absently Anakin brings his hand up, pantomiming the model soaring in the air and dipping low underneath imaginary currents. There is something undeniably sad about it, something that makes Rey’s chest feel tight for reasons she can’t explain.  
  
  
A hand on her shoulder makes her startle, and Rey jerks back.  
  
  
Obi Wan stands above her, face drawn as he puts a finger to his lips. Nodding, Rey takes a step back and follows him as he begins to walk down the hall.  
  
  
“...What’s wrong with him?” She asks as soon as they are a safe distance away.  
  
  
Obi Wan is quiet, contemplative. Finally he settles on the explanation that Rey is ready to hear.  
  
  
“The life of a Jedi can be a difficult one,” he says. “Sometimes it is tempting, to dream of what others might have been.”  
  
  
Rey doesn’t understand, her life on Jakku too short and too cruel to stir up any sort of sentimentality. “But Anakin is already a pilot,” she whispers, knowing that is not quite what Obi Wan means.  
  
  
The old High Master smiles down at her. “I hate to say this, but I imagine you’ll understand once you’re older, Rey.”  
  
  
Her mind replays the up and down motions of the flying toy like an old holorecord.  
  
  
 **\--  
** **ABY 34** **  
** **\--  
  
** Rey rubs at her eyes, trying to dispel fatigue from her mind by doing so. She stands in the middle of the RSF headquarters in central Theed, her overrobe and lightsaber holster back on her form as she braces her hip against a central console. In the middle of it, a small holoprojector spins, presenting the toxicology readout of the dead assassin as a translucent screen for her and the RSF officials to evaluate.  
  
  
“So, all this, and it’s a standard poison,” Rey says in disbelief. Her eyes narrow as they scan the data.  
  
  
To her side, a woman who introduced herself as Captain Chiara scrolls through other files on the console. “This must be the work of professionals.”  
  
  
Rey considers this, then shakes her head. “No. An experienced assassin would never use something so fast-acting.” She sighs. “The server was dead within seconds of injection.”  
  
  
Captain Chiara nods, but then adds: “Unless they intentionally wanted it to be a spectacle.”  
  
  
Rey drops her hand at that, crossing her arms over her stomach. “Before he died, he said it was for the Supreme Leader and the Separatists.” She frowns. “I don’t know anything about the Supreme Leader, but haven’t the Separatists been disbanded for decades?”  
  
  
“Allegedly,” Chiara mutters. “But we’ll run cross-searches with other Republic planets. It’s possible there’s still resistance pockets out there.”  
  
  
“Any idea who the intended target was?”  
  
  
Chiara snorts, “By all accounts, it’s everyone. All dishes were poisoned.” She sends Rey a brief, grateful look. “We were lucky you were there to intervene.”  
  
  
Rey thinks about the Minister of Agriculture, currently in critical condition. “I should have been faster.”  
  
  
A pregnant silence washes over both women, before Rey shakes her head. As Obi Wan has taught her, there isn’t time for self-deprecation in the middle of an ongoing mission. “Any new leads on the assassin?”  
  
  
Chiara flicks through a few buttons, and the toxicology report shifts to become a criminal profile of Aalto Conoy. He looks worse in the mug holo than he did in person, which is quite a feat. “He’s a ghost. Corellian birth certificate--clearly fake--and several convictions for spice trading. Common thug.”  
  
  
“Likely a hire,” Rey extrapolates. A vein begins to throb behind her temple. Unravelling the motivation behind the assassination attempt would be more difficult than anticipated. “Let’s try running the 43-f scenario again.”  
  
  
“Of course, Knight Rey.”  
  
  
Chiara’s data inputs are interrupted by the doors to the investigation room parting like giant curtains. In the middle of them stands Padme Amidala. She strides into the room and immediately Chiara goes into a respectful half-bow. Rey gives her a grim nod of acknowledgement that Padme returns.  
  
  
“How goes the investigation progress?” She asks calmly, despite the circles under her eyes that she has not bothered to expertly hide with cosmetics.  
  
  
“Not well,” Rey says honestly. She makes room for Padme around the holocenter, and gives her a brief recap of their findings. “Does Supreme Leader mean anything to you?”  
  
  
She is quiet for a long time. “No, but I will review my correspondence and missives.” Padme sends her a slow look. “How long have you been here?”  
  
  
“I have no idea,” she admits honestly. Rey had arranged an RSF escort for Ben back to his apartment (which he had protested because of course he wanted to be _difficult_ after an attempt on his life), and made a beeline straight for their headquarters. She had often been reprimanded for her single-minded focus at the temple, something that was in full effect this evening as she worked through scenarios, the toxicology report, and criminal profiles hoping to find an answer.  
  
  
Padme’s hand rests over hers. “It is mid-morning,” she says gently but firmly. “Go rest.”  
  
  
Rey startles, then shakes her head. “I need to rerun a few more scenarios-”  
  
  
“For all of the Jedi’s mindfulness,” Padme interjects, “You still feel exhaustion the same as us.” She grips her hand. “I thank you for saving Ben’s life, and for trying to unravel this assassination attempt, but a well-rested mind is a clearer one. Persist like this and you will do a disservice to your charge.”  
  
  
There isn’t a refute for that. Rey presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Alright,” she concedes, looking up to meet Chiara’s equally exhausted stare. “Reconvene in three standard hours?”  
  
  
“Yes, Knight Rey-”  
  
  
“Six,” Padme corrects smoothly. “The imminent danger is over, and Luke has agreed to assist the investigation.”  
  
  
Chiara’s eyes go wide. “Luke Naberrie is coming _here_?”  
  
  
“Yes, in about an hour.” Padme smiles at Rey. “I will remain here as well. So go.”  
  
  
Rey shifts her weight from foot to foot, before she finally nods.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The moment she returns to the townhouse, she finds the nearest flat surface (a divan), and collapses into a hard, dreamless sleep.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
When she wakes, it is to a boot toeing her shoulder.  
  
  
“So.” Luke says around an expression of mock incredulity as he lowers his leg. “Not dead.”  
  
  
Rey groans, rolling up onto her side and opening her eyes. “What time-”  
  
  
“Don’t bother asking. It’s late.” Without waiting for her response, he shoves her legs off of the divan and sits on the end of it.  
  
  
In response, Rey pushes up into a seat, yawning as she rolls her neck from side to side. “Where’s Padme?”  
  
  
“At Ben’s,” Luke sends her an arch look. “Meaning we have a few minutes of quality time before it all goes to fodder.”  
  
  
She tries to banish the cloudiness from her mind, bringing her thoughts into focus. Sure as Luke said, the room is dark from sunset.  
  
  
“No one woke me,” she manages.  
  
  
“We figured the mighty Jedi Knight could set an alarm.”  
  
  
A wince. “Fair.”  
  
  
He crosses his arms and shuffles until his back’s against the wall, clearly making himself comfortable. “Looks like you found your reason to stick around.”  
  
  
Rey pops her neck, then sighs in relief. “I wish I hadn’t.”  She glances at him. “Any word on the Minister of Agriculture?”  
  
  
“Dead,” Luke says bluntly. “But without you, there would’ve been a lot more. Including my nephew.” His eyes meet hers and for a moment Rey is reminded strongly of her Master. “Thank you for that.”  
  
  
Unused to gratitude from her charges, or sincerity from this curmudgeonly man, Rey feels her cheeks heat. “You’re welcome.” She rests her hands in her lap. “Wish we had more to go on.”  
  
  
“Me too,” Luke says, frowning. “Generic poison, generic assassin, generic targets. Only thing remotely helpful is the part about the Separatists.”  
  
  
“You think that matters?” She questions in disbelief. “They’ve been gone-”  
  
  
“For a while,” he supplies. “True. But that’s what makes it interesting, don’t you think?”  
  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
  
He scratches his chin, his beard now at a close, well-groomed shave. “Since we got a moment, let’s have that talk.”  
  
  
Rey blinks, shifting. “About?”  
  
  
“You seem at least a little observant,” he crooks his lips into a grin that makes him seem far younger. “I’m guessing the lothcat’s out of the bag with me and Ben.”  
  
  
“...about Force sensitivity?”  
  
  
“That’d be it.”  
  
  
“Is Padme…?”  
  
  
“No. Me, my sister, and Ben.” The look he gives her is heavy. “We tend to handle it better than the kid.”  
  
  
“How do you mean?”  
  
  
“When he was little, Ben wanted nothing more than to be a Jedi.” Luke shifts his weight. “That wasn’t in the cards for a thousand reasons we’re not getting into. Long story short, he didn’t want to learn how to hide his powers as a kid and, eventually, he became unable to.”  
  
  
Rey adjusts so she faces him on the divan. “Who taught you how to control it?”  
  
  
“That’s another thing we’re not getting into.” Luke stares straight ahead. “He’s strong, you know. Stronger than Leia or I. But he didn’t want to hide, and he didn’t want to learn. And one day he collapsed a building when that old mynock Ti’arn got too far under his skin during a debate.”  
  
  
Rey closes her eyes, quiet at that. She suspects there’s more to this story, but it’s clear from Luke’s thoughtful silence that this is all he’s willing to tell her. “What happened then?”  
  
  
Luke exhales slowly. “He killed three people. It was the beginning of how he is now.”  
  
  
A pang of empathy hits her at the story. She’s heard similar ones before, back at the temple. Of aggressive Force manifestations or outpourings when a student strayed too close to the Dark. Knowing this, about Ben, makes his cold reception a little easier to understand. But not his hunger for the Force’s power, not his hatred of the Jedi.  
  
  
“You should’ve taken him to the temple for training,” she whispers, not bothering to hide the accusation in her tone.  
  
  
Luke’s eyes narrow, his mouth turning down into a grim expression. But he doesn’t argue the statement, instead letting the silence speak for him as his shoulders hunch forward, just enough.  
  
  
“...But why did he blame the Jedi?” Rey wonder, almost to herself. “They weren’t the cause for the collapse.”  
  
  
Luke closes his eyes, looking almost grayer in the face. “That’s. Complicated.”  
  
  
There’s the sound of the distorted voices in the distance, then the muted beeps of the access code being punched into the front door.  
  
  
Rey sends him a quick look, knowing their conversation is about to end with the arrival of Padme. “Will you tell me?”  
  
  
“Who knows,” he mutters, seeming to have aged. “But I thought you should know this, at least. If you’re going to be following him around while some no names try to poison him with bean soup.”  
  
  
A thin smile cracks at that, more weary than anything. The door opens, and she’s surprised to hear not only Padme, but Ben at the entrance.  
  
  
“Thank you,” she mumbles after a moment. “For the honesty. It can’t be easy to…”  
  
  
“Don’t thank me,” he says sourly. “Just do whatever it is you came to do.”  
  
  
“Alright.”  
  
  
Ben’s footfalls are loud and quick as he storms down the hall. As soon as he enters, he sees her and makes to rush forward, but something about him halts when he catches sight of Luke at her side. Instead he stands across the room, fingers clenched and an intense stare trained on her.  
  
  
“How are you?” He manages, voice raspy as though he, too, hasn’t earned much sleep.  
  
  
“Fine,” she states. “You?”  
  
  
“Fine,” he says, quiet.  
  
  
Rey can sense Luke’s interest like a tangible thing as he looks between them. Thankfully, she’s spared whatever it is he’s about to comment on when Padme arrives behind Ben.  
  
  
“You’re awake,” she says in soft relief. “Did you rest well?”  
  
  
Abruptly, Rey is standing, hands awkwardly smoothing out wrinkles that don’t exist on her trousers. “Yes, thank you.”  
  
  
“It’s the least we can do to host you,” she says smoothly. Her eyes glance at Ben, who instantly scowls. “But now that we’re together, there are things we should discuss.”  
  
  
“The answer is no,” Ben states.  
  
  
“No?” Luke echoes, tilting his head and remaining seated.  
  
  
“I’m not going to run like a coward!” Ben snarls.  
  
  
Rey watches him, confusion filling her as it’s clear she’s missed a step in her sleep. “What’s going on?”  
  
  
“Ben will be staying at the estate in Lake Country for the next few days,” Padme instructs calmly, but with a bit of durasteel to it. Rey suspects it’s not often that someone disagrees with her. “Until we know more of the assassin and his motives, it’s best for you to get out of the city.”  
  
  
“What’s _best,_ ” he counters, “Is that I’m here helping with the investigation!”  
  
  
“Oh,” Luke mutters, “Are you an RSF agent now?”  
  
  
“Don’t start,” he returns dismissively.  
  
  
“He has a point,” Rey interjects quietly. Ben sends her a look of betrayal, and she quickly holds up a hand. “This is why I’m here,” she reminds him. “To help uncover the threat against you. Let me.”  
  
  
“You’d stay here,” he observes, voice measured. “If I left.”  
  
  
Rey considers this, then nods. “I’m more of use in Theed, I think. The RSF could benefit from the assistance of a Jedi.” She meets his eyes but there is something cold and distant in his expression that she doesn’t understand. “The sooner we solve this conspiracy, the better for you.”  
  
  
Ben looks away.  
  
  
Luke yawns, standing up. “Believe it or not,” he says, a spark of something indecipherable in his eyes, “The RSF _is_ able to solve things on its own.”  
  
  
Padme’s attention becomes focused on her son. “You’d return?”  
  
  
“Why not?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Retirement’s boring.”  
  
  
Rey stares at him, making the connection. “You’re in the RSF?”  
  
  
He grins. “Something I did on the side when I was given leave from the Space Fighter Corps.”  
  
  
She looks at him with renewed interest. The old man before her was a pilot-- inevitably, she feels a sense of kinship blossoming.  
  
  
“Besides,” Luke continues, “Leia’s cruiser is due to land in two days.” He faces his nephew. “Between the two of us, with Rey’s assistance, there’s no reason for you to stay and become a target before we have a plan.”  
  
  
Ben says nothing, but that dark look in his eyes seems to intensify. She notices his fists have tightened.  
  
  
“Ben?” Padme asks, noticing the same thing and sharing a furtive look with Rey. “What’s wrong?”  
  
  
He turns his attention back to Rey. His lips press together tightly, and she sees some kind of resolve wash over him. “I’ll go,” he concedes.  
  
  
Padme and Luke’s eyes both widen, as though they were shocked by the easy persuasion-  
  
  
Ben doesn’t break eye contact from her. “If Rey comes with me.”  
  
  
Luke’s previous interest seems to become a sharp spike as he turns to Rey. She feels Padme’s eyes on her as well, intelligent and assessing.  
  
  
“What?” She asks stupidly.  
  
  
“You said it yourself,” he says, a hint of temper growing in his words. “You’re here as my bodyguard.” He glares, as though in challenge. “So guard me.”  
  
  
Rey tries to skim the surface of his feelings with her mind, to get some reasoning behind his ultimatum, but his mind slams closed to her so abruptly she takes a half-step back. The back of her calf touches the divan.

  
“You want me to come with you,” she repeats.  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
“Only a few days ago you wanted me to go back to Coruscant!”  
  
  
“I’ve changed my mind.”  
  
  
Throughout the exchange, Padme’s entire body seems to have grown stiff. Her sharp gaze stays on Ben, the smallest of frowns forming between her brows as she sees something there she doesn’t like.   
  
  
“Ben,” she manages, “Rey’s decision is her own.”   
  
  
Something in his jaw works. “So is mine.”  
  
  
Rey tries to keep her voice level. “I would do you more good in Theed.”  
  
  
“I don’t agree.”  
  
  
She runs a hand through her hair, Threepio's braid falling out and disheveled. She senses Padme and Luke’s stares on her as she makes her decision, silently imploring her to choose an option she doesn’t understand. Finally, she exhales, blowing a strand of hair away from her face.  
  
  
“ _Fine_ , if that’s what you want. I’ll go with.”  
  
  
Immediately, his expression softens as he gives a tight nod. “Good.”  
  
  
“So will I,” Padme interjects. At Ben’s scowl, she smiles. “The Lake Country holds nothing but happy memories for me, ones I could use now more than ever.”

  
Even Rey knows that there is no way for Ben to argue this. And it seems she’s right, as he grumbles out a wordless assent.  
  
  
“Looks like we’re settled,” Luke says carefully. He watches Rey as he rubs his chin. “I’ll keep in contact about the investigation.”  
  
  
She nods, resolute. “And I’ll see what I can find out on my own about the Separatists.”  
  
  
Luke sends his nephew a warning look, “It seems you’re off to the estate, then. For better or worse.”  
  
  
Rey rolls her shoulders. “I’ll grab my things.”  
  
  
As she leaves the room, she’s not oblivious to the way Ben and his grandmother are staring at each other, their eyes locked in a silent argument she doesn’t understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -[Tenel Ka Djo](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Tenel_Ka_Djo)
> 
> -Anakin's playing with Luke's toy ship from A New Hope in the flashback
> 
> -[RSF](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Republic_Security_Force)
> 
> -[Space Fighter Corps](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Naboo_Royal_Space_Fighter_Corps/Legends)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY ONE MORE i promise i'll get to everyone's comments soon!! thank you all for being so encouraging :D

**\--** **  
** **ABY 29** **  
** **\--  
  
** “Okay, what gives?”  
  
  
Rey looks up from the hydrospanner she is absently levitating in small circles about her hands. Finn leans to the side of the garage, one of his shoulders resting against the wall.  
  
  
“What do you mean?” She asks, nose wrinkled.  
  
  
The older boy moves to sit next to her. She shifts to the right without a second thought as he takes the extra space on the workbench. Rey and Finn have just _clicked_ in a way Rey has never experienced before. Maybe it’s because, like her, he’s always been a little different than the rest of them at the temple. Out of step. But it seems like the Force has guided them to one another, an easy and effortless friendship forming from the moment they started sharing quarters as fellow padawan. Growing up in the temple, she knows little about familial relationships, but he’s something like a brother she’s never had.  
  
  
“I mean you’ve been sulking for almost three days now,” Finn chastises, playfully snagging the tool from the air and spinning it over her head.  
  
  
She rolls her eyes up to look at it and makes a half-hearted attempt to grab it. Finn is, of course, faster. “I’m just. Bored.”  
  
  
“Bored,” he echoes, falling into a deep mock contemplation. “This has nothing to do with Master Skywalker going on leave, does it?”  
  
  
Rey lets out a long exhale that makes the stray hairs around her face fly up. “...he didn’t take me with,” she confides in Finn. Probably the only one, other than Obi Wan, she would feel comfortable with making such an admission.  
  
  
“Enjoy the break,” he mutters, spinning the tool into a slow descent.  
  
  
She bites down on her lip. It’s no secret that the relationship between Finn and his master isn’t one to be envious of. “I guess…I thought he’d at least tell me where he’s going. That’s all.”  
  
  
He looks at her softly, as though sensing what is unsaid. _Don’t I matter to him?_ Maybe. Or _I thought we were family._ He waits a second before smiling wide. “I have an idea.”  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
“Let’s break some things with the Force.”  
  
  
Rey stares at him before a slow grin starts on her face, aware that he’s trying to take her mind off of Anakin and appreciating it. “I know just the rocks to lift!”  
  
  
 **\--  
** **34 ABY** **  
** **\--  
  
  
** “You own an island,” Rey says in disbelief, her fingers pressed against the viewport of the Gondola Cruiser and making smudges on otherwise pristine glass.  
  
  
“The Naberries own an island,” Ben corrects. He stands to her side, about an arm’s length away. Unlike her, his hands are clasped respectfully behind his back.  
  
  
She sends him a side glance as she looks up, skeptical. “Are there any other Naberries?”  
  
  
He clears his throat. “I have second cousins.”  
  
  
“How many?”  
  
  
“Three.”  
  
  
She rolls her eyes, returning her full attention to the beautiful scene before her. Their transport goes through a literal waterfall before it begins to fly over crystalline lake water.  
  
  
“Is there even bad weather here?” She whispers in awe.  
  
  
“Occasionally,” Padme states, stepping into the small gap between the two of them. “Normally rain.”  
  
  
Ben frowns at the viewport. Rey tries and fails to stifle her gasp as they round a corner and a building comes into view--crafted directly into the shoreline as though it was meant to be part of the lush forest surrounding them.  
  
  
“Is that it?” She breathes.  
  
  
Several balconies come into view, the exterior crafted with smooth-looking sandstone. What catches her eyes are the two rotundas, towering over the rest of the retreat and shining an emerald green in the sun. Bright flora break the natural colors of the architecture, warm and happy in reds and pinks and yellows.  
  
  
“Yes,” Padme says happily, looking almost girlish despite the deep wrinkles in her face. “This is Varykino.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
As soon as they land, Rey is startled when someone attempts to grab the bag hanging from her shoulder. She pivots, the part of Jakku that never quite left her in full effect as she bears her teeth.  
  
  
“This is mine-!”  
  
  
A woman with a red, knit cap covering all of her hair takes a step back. “Apologies, Mistress Rey.” She bows demurely. “I only wanted to assist with your luggage.”  
  
  
Rey’s eyes widen. “ _My_ luggage?”  
  
  
To the side, another woman wearing a similar cap begins to gather Padme’s wardrobe, then Ben’s, onto a hover platform. Soon, the two Nabooians are only standing in their travel clothes--Padme, an indigo brocade gown with a lavender scarf wrapped around her head, and Ben, an asymmetrically fastened, black poncho with similarly colored trousers and boots.  
  
  
Rey absently shrugs off the strap, handing it over slowly to the woman and acutely aware of the dirt under her fingernails. “Sorry,” she mumbles, avoiding direct eye contact with the servant and feeling her cheeks flush.  
  
  
“No need for apologies,” the woman answers brightly with an even brighter smile. “We’re so happy to have guests!”  
  
  
“Thank you Bentina,” Padme says, as the woman with the hoverlift nods and retreats into the glass doors. “Shall we?”  
  
  
Rey keeps her eye on the servant with her bag until she disappears, immediately feeling vulnerable in a way she isn’t used to. Her stare is only broken when she feels the lightest of touches on her arm. Rey turns her head to the right, then up, and sees Ben staring down at her.  
  
  
“What’s wrong?” He demands.  
  
  
Rey wants her things. But she doesn’t know how to communicate that to someone...to someone like Ben Naberrie Solo, so she only forces herself to smile.  
  
  
“Just getting used to the outdoors.”  
  
  
He doesn’t look like believes her for a second. And he doesn’t drop his fingers--instead turning them into the crook of her elbow. HIs touch is warm against her bare skin. Almost pleasant, in a way. Like an anchor.  
  
  
“I’ll show you to your room,” he states.  
  
  
Part of her feels relief at the suggestion, knowing that’s where she’s likely to find her belongings-  
  
  
Another hand grabs gently onto Rey’s other arm. She looks left, then down into Padme’s serene face.  
  
  
“How about a tour of the Retreat?” She offers, before leaning forward to meet her grandson’s gaze. “I believe you have a conference holocomm with the urban planning committee?”  
  
  
She feels his fingers curl against her arm before reluctantly dropping away. “Not for another hour.”  
  
  
Padme nods. “Enough time to review your dossiers.”  
  
  
Ben seems to be fighting for the right words-  
  
  
“And Rey, as we walk I’d like to discuss security measures for the grounds.” Padme isn’t quite smiling, and Rey doesn’t know why she has the distinct impression that she’s unhappy with something. “As well as let you know what I’ve heard from Luke.”  
  
  
The mention of the old man grabs her interest. “There’s news on the Separatists?”  
  
  
“No. The assassin.” She looks up to address her grandson. “I’ll update you after dinner.”  
  
  
“I’d rather know now,” he says tightly.  
  
  
There is, once again, that underlying durasteel to Padme’s voice. “Allowing the assassination to distract you from your duties means the assassin has won.” She lets her next words come more softly. “I would have you impress the committee, Ben. They will be an important part of voting for the permanent position.”  
  
  
He is quiet for a moment, before a concession is reached like pulled teeth. “Fine. After dinner.” There’s something direct in his next words. “We’ll all talk then.”  
  
  
Rey nods. “I’ll work on security protocols as well.”  
  
  
He tilts his chin down in consent, before he’s striding forward--the cloth of his poncho billowing out behind him.  
  
  
“Well,” Padme says after she clears her throat, “Where should we begin?”  
  
  
\--

  
They do not make it far. The grounds are expansive, and Rey finds herself asking a million questions that she knows aren’t necessary for the task she’s been assigned. But Padme seems delighted to answer, and it’s almost as though being here has taken years off of her shoulders. There is something almost girlish when she tells Rey about the surrounding vacation homes, the small market further inland, the wild herds of animals and the serene waterfalls of the island. Eventually, their walk outside the estate’s perimeter leads them to a garden attached to the southern wing.  
  
  
“What is this?” Rey asks as her eyes land on a large flower. It’s red in the center, its petals edged in a blue light that almost seems to glow. Rey uncurls her fingers toward it, but allows them to hover, as if afraid to ruin its delicate beauty with her touch.  
  
  
Padme’s gaze is soft. “Novablooms. I planted that vine when I was still a girl.”  
  
  
Rey looks at it, craning her head back as she follows the vine’s trail up a trellis that rests against the outside wall of the estate.  
  
  
Something about Padme’s gaze becomes sly. “The seedling was given to me by an admirer.”  
  
  
A little laugh escapes Rey’s lips at the admission. “They must have been pleased when they saw it cover the outside of your home.”  
  
  
“There was no stopping him after,” Padme agrees. She closes her eyes and breathes in the aroma of her gardens deeply. “I have missed this place.”  
  
  
“It’s beautiful.” Rey sends her a meaningful look. “Far prettier than our gardens at the temple.”  
  
  
“And what are those like?”  
  
  
Her nose wrinkles, thinking of all the edible plants. “ _Pragmatic._ ”  
  
  
Padme fails to hide the quick smile that flits across her face. “The Jedi aren’t known for the indulgence. I suppose such things extend to gardening.”  
  
  
“Unfortunately.” Rey’s tone becomes just the slightest bit wistful. “I do enjoy the squash flowers, though.”  
  
  
“Are you beginning to miss your home?”  
  
  
“Parts of it,” Rey admits. Her thoughts drift to the dinner, to the servants and the glittering crystals that hang in the sky. “People like me...maybe we don’t fit anywhere else.”  
  
  
Padme watches as Rey lets her fingers drop from where they hover beside the Novabloom. There is a sadness in her eyes that Rey doesn’t understand. “For what it’s worth, I _am_ happy to have you here,” she says quietly.  
  
  
“Thank you,” Rey says and means it. “I’m going to do my best to protect him. For your kindness. And Anakin’s.”  
  
  
“And not for Ben?”  
  
  
The question throws her, and Rey blinks. “What do you mean?”  
  
  
The older woman evaluates her for a minute, then begins walking toward the courtyard’s side door. “I believe it’s time for dinner. Join us, please.”  
  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Rey jogs to catch up to her.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
It’s immediately clear that Ben is in a sour mood. He sits on the end of a long, polished table that reminds her of the one at Ti’arn’s, his lips thin and his fingers tapping on the edge of the stone.  
  
  
As Padme has gone to change into her dinner dress (Rey does not understand what this means), she is left alone in this opulent dining room with a dormant volcano. Awkwardly, she pulls out the chair next to him. It makes a loud, harsh SCRAAAAPE of a sound and breaks whatever stewing spell he’s under.  
  
  
“Lift the back legs first,” he corrects without thinking. “ _Then_ the front.”  
  
  
Rey sighs, plopping herself into the seat with all the grace of a drunken happabore. “Guess your meeting didn’t go well?”  
  
  
His eyes seem to flare. “I’m not talking about it.”  
  
  
She shrugs, fingers grabbing what looks like bread in the middle of the table. “Fine by me-”  
  
  
He rests his hand over hers, and caught off-guard, Rey’s hold on the roll goes lax. It lands with a dull thud back into the serving basket. Ben stares at the bread, then where his hand touches her.  
  
  
“About the Ministry dinner,” he mumbles, not looking up. “I...misstepped.”  
  
  
Rey blinks. “What?”

  
“I…” It’s clear he does _not_ know how to apologize. If that’s even what he’s trying to do. “I over-assumed your knowledge.”  
  
  
She bristles at the statement. He makes it sound like she failed to measure up to something. “I might not have a background in politics, but I’m not an idiot.”  
  
  
His gaze snaps up to meet hers. “That’s not what I’m saying-”  
  
  
“Then what are you saying?”  
  
  
“You showed up in your robes!”  
  
  
“What was I supposed to do instead, show up naked?”  
  
  
“ _What_ -”  
  
  
“Rey.”  
  
  
Both Rey and Ben slowly turn their heads. Padme stands at the entrance to the dining room, wearing an off-the-shoulder, burgundy gown glistening with crystal details.  She looks at Rey, then her grandson, then the place where her grandson is still holding Rey above the serving dish.  
  
  
“Would you mind preparing a roll for me?”  
  
  
Rey swallows, tugging her hand out from Ben’s. “Sure.”  
  
  
“Thank you,” she says tightly. As Rey uses a blunt knife to cut across the bread’s seam, she takes a dignified seat directly across from her. “How did you do in the conference?”  
  
  
Ben’s ears go red. Rey catches herself staring at them, fascinated. He sends her a dark look when he catches her and she looks down out of courtesy. “Not well,” he manages.  
  
  
Padme nods graciously when Rey levitates the roll across the table, catching it idly with her hand. “Who was in attendance?”  
  
  
He scoffs. “Who do you think?”  
  
  
Padme makes a displeased expression that Rey has seen on her grandson. “Cartese?”  
  
  
Ben grunts, spearing the meat on his plate as the servants from before bring out their entree.

  
Rey smiles as the smell of it hits her nose.   
  
  
“He’s intimidated by you,” Padme reassures Ben, cutting her own food into more delicate pieces.  
  
  
“He wants to increase property taxes for Cultural District development-”  
  
  
“Short sighted,” Padme says lowly.  
  
  
“As though it’s not enough that the contracts on duraconcrete have risen-”  
  
  
“Eight percent,” Padme agrees. “This agenda sounds increasingly like gentrification.”  
  
  
“And its subsequent dislocation of original residents,” he says around clenched teeth.  
  
  
Rey watches the two of them volley between each other, an amused grin on her face. A few times during the meal, she feels Ben’s stare on her. Thinking he wants to address her, she looks up. Every time she does, he looks away.  
  


She frowns, puzzled. Reluctantly ( _very_ reluctantly), she considers whether or not Ben has a point.  
  
  
...Perhaps she _would_ do well to learn more of Naboo’s customs.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The rest of the evening passes by pleasantly enough. All of the food is simple, easy to eat. There is, graciously, only one of each type of cutlery at her seat. She feels a buzzing at her hip and absently withdraws her datapad.  
  
  
FROM:FINN (3)  
  
  
“Kriff,” she says quietly.  
  
  
“What is it?” Ben’s voice is deep and startles her into looking away from the screen.  
  
  
“I’m afraid I need to be excused,” she mumbles, rubbing the back of her neck. “Thank you for dinner,” she tells Padme.  
  
  
The older woman sends her a look of concern, but nods. “Of course.”  
  
  
“What is it?” Ben repeats again.  
  
  
She sends him an annoyed look, but exhales. “I need to contact the temple. Finn’s hailed me a few times.”  
  
  
“Who’s Finn?” Ben demands at the same time Padme asks “Is everything alright?”  
  
  
Rey forces a smile to her face and nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
  
She makes a quick exit, feeling a stare on her back.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
 _“Where are you?!”_ Finn’s voice cackles as his body goes in and out of focus. Unsurprisingly, the comm lines are not as strong as they could be out in the middle of Lake Country.  
  
  
She sits cross-legged on the bed in her temporary quarters, chin cradled on her palm as she hunches over. “Naboo.”  
  
  
Her friend blinks, and she can see him mentally placing where Naboo even _is_. “ _Why_?”  
  
  
“I’m on a bodyguarding mission.”  
  
  
Finn frowns. _“Then why are the Masters acting like you’ve gone rogue?”  
  
  
_ She winces. “Which Masters?”  
  
  
He sighs, his small, blue form pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _Really, Rey. What are you doing?”  
  
  
_ She bites her lower lip. “I’m doing what Anakin told me to do.”  
  
  
Concern flickers across Finn’s face. “ _...What do you mean, what Anakin told you?”  
  
  
_ She sighs. “Before he…” Her eyes sting, and she hates it. “He told me to protect a Senator here. Ben Solo.”  
  
  
“ _Any reason why?”  
  
  
_ “None I’ve been able to figure out for sure. I think Anakin is a friend of his grandmother’s.” Rey pauses, considering. “But it seems he was right to send me here-- there’s already been an attempt on his life.”  
  
  
“ _And you didn’t think to tell me?_ ”  
  
  
“It was only a day ago.”  
  
  
“ _How long are you planning on staying?”  
  
  
_ The question’s a heavy one. And Rey lets it hover in the air for a few minutes as she deliberates the best answer. “Until I get called back, I suppose. Or I find the assailant.”  
  
  
The look Finn sends her is a stern one. “ _I don’t like that this mission didn’t go through any of the proper channels, Rey. You know what Skywalker was like.”  
  
  
_ She feels defensive. “It’s personal business, not Jedi!”  
  
  
“ _It’s_ Anakin’s _business,”_ Finn corrects. “ _It doesn’t feel right._ ”  
  
  
She looks at her dearest friend sadly. “You know nothing you say will change my mind.”  
  
  
He snorts. _“Of course not.”_ Finn looks over his shoulder at something Rey can’t see. “ _Meanwhile, I’m stuck on Chandrila.”_ He frowns. “ _Just. Do me a favor, and tell Yoda?”  
  
  
_ Rey feels a chill, although there’s no reason to have one. “...alright, I will.”  
  
  
Finn’s gaze softens. “ _Good. Miss you.”  
  
  
_ “Miss you, too.”  
  
  
“ _If I don’t get a message from you at least every three days, I’m storming the art museums.”  
  
  
_ She smiles at that. “If you can get off Chandrila.”  
  
  
He looks at her from under his brows. “ _Tell me about it. I’m becoming a big deal around here.”  
  
  
_ Rey laughs. “Admirers?” It’s not uncommon, wherever Finn goes.  
  
  
A long groan in the positive.  
  
  
They talk for a few more minutes, the comm ended by a mutual promise to take care of themselves.  
  
  
When it’s over, Rey stretches out to lay on her back, one of her arms folded underneath her neck in a makeshift pillow. As odd as it is, there is a part of her beginning to feel homesick. There is something comfortable in the simplicity of life at the temple, in the day to day routines and squash gardens.  
  
  
 _Tell Yoda.  
  
  
_ Rey lets out a sigh of frustration, and tries to will herself to sleep.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
It doesn’t come. And after a few hours of fruitless attempts, Rey decides she needs to move. At her core, she is a restless spirit, and the need to walk is almost as a compulsion as she exits her room and makes for the grand halls of Varykino. The floors are so polished they’re almost like glass, and Rey watches the shadows chase her reflection as she aimlessly wanders.  
  
  
Eventually, her footsteps lead her to a round room, one with wide, glass doors. Moonlight streams through them, and Rey’s curiosity gets the better of her as she steps outside to the balcony beyond.  
  
  
There is a different kind of beauty here at this hour. Rey walks near silently to the stone railing of the balcony, her eyes taking in the sight of endless, gentle lake and forest below. The moon and stars are so bright the sky is almost a dark blue instead of black, and she lifts her body to sit on the ledge.  
  
  
She is listless, her feet kicking in time to the waves, when she feels him approach.  
  
  
“What are you doing?” Ben asks, his voice raspy but not groggy. She suspects that he has not yet gone to bed.  
  
  
“Couldn’t sleep.”  
  
  
Rey cranes her neck over her shoulder, watching as Ben cracks open a door and steps out after her. She thinks it’s funny, in a way, that she always catches this man in his pajamas. He wears a long-sleeved black shirt that is so thin it’s almost transparent, and it makes her stare for a moment. She’s so used to seeing him in big, billowy things--robes, capes, _ponchos._ Not fabric that clings to his skin like this, hugging muscles she doesn’t think a politician should need.  
  
  
He stops when he stands right next to her, their shoulders almost touching. He does not move to sit on the railing, and she does not move to get off of it. Ben watches the lake with her for a few minutes, then clears his throat as though uncomfortable.  
  
  
“Luke’s figured out who hired Aalto. Someone from Nar Shaddaa named Moab Ken.” Ben sends her a look. “Do you know of him?”  
  
  
“Sithspawn,” she mutters in dismay, cradling her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I forgot about that.”  
  
  
“You were distracted,” he says carefully. “By your comm.”  
  
  
She lowers her hands just enough to peak at him through her fingers. “Not just that,” she admits.  
  
  
His eyes widen, lips parting just a little-  
  
  
“This place is...disarming,” she says sheepishly. “I got caught up looking at _flowers,_ of all things.”  
  
  
Whatever soft look he had face fades, slightly. “Flowers.”  
  
  
Rey shakes her head. “I won’t be distracted. Promise. First thing tomorrow, I’ll-”  
  
  
“I want to continue training,” he interrupts. Ben leans forward, bracing against the railing with his hands. The edge of his palm is close to the outside of her thigh. “The seclusion of Lake Country is a rare opportunity.”  
  
  
Rey kicks out one of her feet. Then the other. “Finding the assassin has to come first,” she warns.  
  
  
“I don’t know how much of your time you expect that to take in _Lake Country._ ”  
  
  
She shoots him an accusatory stare. “Is that why you insisted I come with?”  
  
  
He turns to her. His eyes reflect the moonlight, she realizes absently. “If it was?”  
  
  
Rey shakes her head sadly. “I wasn’t sent here to be your tutor, Ben.”  
  
  
“That doesn’t matter.”  
  
  
“It does to me.”  
  
  
“Because of your Master’s wishes,” he infers bitterly.  
  
  
Rey folds her hands in her lap. “He was more than that to me.”  
  
  
Ben’s gaze is almost a sharp thing, and Rey gives a soft laugh when she realizes how the statement might be interpreted.  
  
  
“He was like my father,” she asserts.  
  
  
There’s a tense, uncomfortable silence at the statement. Rey can’t figure out why, but Ben’s next words seem to stem from it.  
  
  
“Must have been a disappointment.”

  
“Not at all,” she whispers. “I miss him. All the time.”  
  
  
He turns, so he faces her and not the lake. She feels the warmth from his chest radiating from his thin shirt, the edge of his nose is nearly close enough to graze her cheek.  
  
  
“I don’t want to talk about him.”  
  
  
Rey tilts her head, eyes blinking slowly. “Then what would you like to talk about?”  
  
  
“Anything else.”  
  
  
“The stars are bright tonight,” she says, trying to find something that doesn’t make her uncomfortable.  
  
  
He doesn’t look at them. “Stars are bright every night.”  
  
  
“I’m sure they are, here.” She sends him a look, before she points up. “See those three? You can’t see them on Coruscant.” She slides her finger to the side, dancing across the space, the blue-black sky. “Or any of those. Even if we were in the right part of the galaxy, the light pollution would block them all out.”  
  
  
Ben hasn’t moved, or looked at where she’s pointing. “You like star charts.”  
  
  
“I found an old astronav map, once, on a mission.” A tentative smile forms on her lips. “The philosophies get old, after a while.”  
  
  
“That’s all you read?”  
  
  
She shrugs. “I don’t read much.”  
  
  
“Why not?”  
  
  
Rey turns to face him, and the tip of her nose accidentally brushes his. She mutters a quick apology and scoots back, oblivious to how very, very still he’s become. “I enjoy doing other things more, I guess.”  
  
  
The outside of his hand is still near the outside of her thigh. He watches her, expression hard to read in the shadows cast by the moon and stars.  
  
  
“What’s wrong?” She asks.  
  
  
He’s still impossibly tense.  
  
  
“Ben?”  
  
  
He clears his throat, turning to face to lake once again. “This rotunda is called the Room of Morning Mists.”  
  
  
Rey blinks. “That’s...interesting.”  
  
  
“The poet Omar Berenko was kidnapped from here, after he was composing a follow up to _Defense of Naboo_.” Ben’s voice is…strange, but it gets very soft when he says the next part, almost like an afterthought. “My grandmother was married on this balcony.”  
  
  
“At the same time?”  
  
  
He shoots her a dark look, and she smiles at her own joke. Rey’s eyes then roam over the balcony--its polished, stone floors. The flowers held in pots along the rail. The endless stretch of water.  
  
  
“It’d be a lovely place to get married,” she agrees in an absent sort of way.  
  
  
The look he sends her is a sharp one, but Rey misses it in favor of a yawn.  
  
  
“Ben,” she breathes out past it.  
  
  
“...yes.”  
  
  
She thinks about the story Luke told her, before leaving. About the ocean. And that pang of empathy returns in full force. “I’ll meet you back here at dawn.”  
  
  
He steps closer. “For?”  
  
  
“Meditation.” Rey slides off the railing gracelessly, and pivots so she stands before him. She looks up, meeting his gaze. “I think you’re right,” she adds. “I think if you’re in danger, knowing how to use the Force can only help.”  
  
  
He looks as though he doesn’t understand--like the words were an impossibility finally given form. Ben swallows hard. “At dawn, then.”  
  
  
Rey nods, taking a step back and going toward the doors. “Goodnight.”  
  
  
It’s not until she’s halfway inside that she hears the parting whisper behind her.  
  
  
“Goodnight, Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ben's travel poncho](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/65/09/336509ef10e7fd0b20f3b490ed73f577.jpg)
> 
> [Padme's travel dress inspiration](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/0e/c5/66/0ec56665a4f39d05d10f261424ed0a4f.jpg)
> 
> [Padme's dinner dress inspiration](http://miku.blog.se/files/2013/01/Blood-Countes-1.jpg)
> 
> [Ben's pajamas: Lake Country Edition](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ee/76/0c/ee760c86f85d0476635d777bc350441f.jpg)
> 
> [Varykino](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Varykino/Legends)
> 
> [Novabloom inspiration](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/3b/c9/23/3bc92312cabfc60385836efbccd5ba35.jpg)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT!!! still making my way through comments, but in the meantime, have some UST and libraries :'|

**\--** **  
** **ABY 29** **  
** **\--  
  
** “What is it?” Rey finally asks. Across from her, Anakin has soldered the same wire three different times on a simple patch job.  
  
  
He sighs, shoulders slumping forward as though defeated. Then he takes a long inhale, and tilts his chin up. “You’re getting older,” he starts artlessly.  
  
  
“Isn’t everyone?”  
  
  
“Funny.” Anakin starts soldering that same wire _again_ and Rey thinks she might have to confiscate his torch. For his own good. “What I mean is. You’re.” He scowls, tapping the table. “You’re probably going through changes.”  
  
  
She shrugs, disinterested.  
  
  
“You know. _Changes._ With.” Anakin makes a motion in the air that could mean bantha, Obi Wan, or opera for all its specificity. “All that.”  
  
  
Rey very, very slowly takes the soldering torch from him. “Master Anakin,” she says as diplomatically and respectfully as she can manage. “Maybe it’s time for a nap.”  
  
  
He glares at her.  
  
  
She gives his forearm a quick, reassuring pat-pat.  
  


 **\--** **  
** **ABY 34** **  
** **\--** **  
** **  
**The first three days in Lake Country found them settling into a routine, of sorts. Late at night or early in the morning, she and Ben practiced basic meditation techniques and levitation. During the day, Ben and Padme spend their time doing various duties as members of a Civil Society, while Rey conducted a security sweep over the vastness of Varykino. She’d been given carte blanche by Padme to make any modifications to the windows or doors where necessary, and her mechanic’s fingers itched to do so. She was shocked, however, to find that most of the doors and windows already had top-notch security measures installed--most of it custom.  
  
  
“Is this a retreat or a fortress?” She mumbles to herself, thumb sliding underneath the window ledge to find several motion sensor pads installed.  
  
  
“Both.”  
  
  
Ben’s deep voice makes her startle, and she slips and falls rather ungracefully from where she was perched on a sill. Just before her face hits the ground, she freezes her body in levitation. Shaking her head, she presses the flats of her hands against the floor and pushes herself up into a stand without injury.  
  
  
“Are you...alright?” And suddenly Ben is right behind her, hand tentatively hovering over her shoulder.  
  
  
Rey idly brushes some dirt off of it, causing him to step back. “This window has _thirteen_ different sensor pads,” she observes, looking up at it and putting her hands on her hips. “Thirteen!”  
  
  
Ben stands to her side, a hulking shadow of sorts as he follows her gaze. The sunlight from the window hits his chest, making the geometric patterns cut into the leather of his tunic shine like armor.  “Berenko was paranoid.”  
  
  
She shoots him a look, taking a second to place the name. “The poet,” she remembers. The one who was kidnapped from the same place Padme got married. “Well. Understandably.”  
  
  
He doesn’t say anything, but the two of them stand in companionable silence for a few minutes as they stare out the window. It gives them an excellent view of the forest. She’s watching a brightly colored bird build a nest when his voice interrupts her thoughts and their stillness.  
  
  
“Grandmother says you need access to my rooms.”  
  
  
Rey nods, rubbing a finger over her chin--an expression unconsciously picked up from Master Obi Wan. “I’m trying to do a full diagnostic. I’ve got your rooms, the twins’, and the library left.”  
  
  
Something about Ben softens--his eyes become wider, his mouth more relaxed. He looks...younger. “Let’s start with the library.”

  
\--  
  
  
She follows him as he leads her down an endless maze of corridors. The Varykino Estate is huge, probably half the size of the Jedi Temple without the benefit of being the building Rey grew up with.  
  
  
“Is this the only housing on the island?” She asks, eyes trained to the walls where portraits--made with _paint_ \--hang. Everyone in the Naberrie family seems to be brunette and beautiful. That is, until Luke’s shock of wild, fluffy blond hair interrupts the procession. He’s instantly recognizable in the painting, probably done when he was in his 20s. She vaguely remembers that his childhood room was down the corridor they are currently passing--she needs to inspect that one, too.  
  
  
“No,” there’s an abruptness to the answer that Rey doesn’t understand.  
  
  
But it’s important information, so whatever sensitivity Ben has toward it is too bad. “What else is there?”  
  
  
He doesn’t look at her. “Convergence.”  
  
  
“...is this an abstract concept?”  
  
  
Ben sends her a look of irritation. “The name of the estate. Is Convergence. It’s on the other side of the island.”  
  
  
She gives a hm of thought before she withdraws her personal datapad, intending to take notes. It whirs on with a gentle hum. “Occupants?”  
  
  
“A skeleton caretaking staff.”  
  
  
Her eyes dart up to meet his. “No owners? Not even during resort season?”  
  
  
Ben pauses, his expression flat. Rey takes a few steps past him and sighs, turning to face him.  
  
  
“Right. You’re hiding something.” Rey worries her lip, before sending him what she hopes is a trustworthy, endearing smile. “Tell me and I’ll start you on defensive techniques tonight?”  
  
  
Ben’s attention is fixed firmly on her face. “What kind.”  
  
  
She thinks of what will be most useful to him and least damaging to the estate. “Blaster bolt deflection.” Rey thinks of all the stained glass. “Probably down on the beach.” At seeing the war on his features, she decides to up the ante. “ _And_ we can go an hour longer.”  
  
  
He watches her, debating. Finally, he exhales. “No, there’s no other occupants.” He looks tense again. “It was...a gift. To my grandmother.”  
  
  
“Someone gave Padme half of an island?” Rey’s mind unconsciously goes to the novabloom suitor, and hopes he didn’t feel too one-upped.  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
“Who?”  
  
  
Another long pause. “A former politician.”  
  
  
“Why?”  
  
  
“I don’t know for certain,” he bites out, and he takes a step forward so they’re once again side by side. He waits for her to start walking before he does. “But the original owner was a close friend of my grand-” he looks at her, falls silent. “Of my grandmother. He had no children or heirs, and his death was sudden.”  
  
  
“Did you know him?” Rey asks, voice sympathetic.  
  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
  
“I should probably head over there at some point,” she muses.  
  
  
“What for?” It sounds more like a growl.  
  
  
“It’d be a logical base of operations for any assailants,” Rey explains. “The gondola speeders stick out like a sore thumb--coming through the trees would be easier for stealth.”  
  
  
“If they’re even after me.”  
  
  
She sends him a glare. “They _were_ after you.”  
  
  
“Can you prove it? Who’s to say I wasn’t just an acceptable casualty?”  
  
  
“I thought you wanted me?”  
  
  
His steps are a little slower, and he turns to face her. Whatever’s in his expression makes Rey rub the back of her neck.  
  
  
“My help, I mean. You wanted me here. To bodyguard you.”  
  
  
His expression doesn’t change at all. “I wanted you here to train me in the Force.”  
  
  
She crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “I’m doing that, aren’t I?”  
  
  
He is very close. And tall. And big.  “We’re not moving fast enough.”  
  
  
Her brows draw together. “Is there a deadline we’re trying to meet?”  
  
  
Ben’s teeth grind for a second, before he lets out a long hiss of breath. He mumbles something Rey doesn’t catch.  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
He takes a step back, starts walking again. “I said let’s just go to the library.”  
  
  
She doesn’t think that’s what he said, but she lets it rest. For now.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The doors slide apart for Ben, and almost as soon as he’s crossed the threshold he moves to the side.  
  
  
“Take a look,” he says softly.  
  
  
Rey steps in, and almost immediately her head tilts back. And back.  
  
  
The floor of the library is the same as it is throughout the rest of Varykino--some type of smooth stone polished until it is like glass. Unlike the outside halls, the stones have geometric patterns made out of mosaics--light and dark molding together to make interconnecting designs. In the middle of the floor, there are a series of what look like _actual_ globes, encased in stands of golden filigree. She hears them hum, and realizes that the insides must have been contemporized to project astronavigational charts. Just one of these globes was likely enough to buy her a new cruiser.  
  
  
She takes a hesitant step in, afraid to touch anything. The first floor (there appears to be three) is lined intermittently with ground-to-ceiling shelving made of a dark, rich wood and glass windows stained in golds, blues, and greens. Where their light dances across the floor, Rey can see that the stonework is actually done in dark blue and cream and threaded with thin veins of gold, not black and white like she originally thought. In front of the windows are reading nooks and work tables, all done in the same dark wood or lined with golden and blue cushions. Rey stares at a divan and thinks it looks more comfortable than any of the beds in the entirety of the temple. Art, also hangs from the walls. But as Rey looks closely, she notices that some of the illustrations fail to fit the frames they’re in--an oddity, in an otherwise immaculately constructed room. Like someone swapped their contents.  
  
  
Rey takes a few more steps in, the light from the windows casting her shadow out long before her. Past the globles there are yet more shelves, although these ones are kept far apart from the windows. As she moves closer, she sees that they’re _books,_ made of _paper_ and _ink,_ and her eyes go wide. They’re arranged by size and loosely packed, so that none of the spines are touching. Only a few of them have something resembling aurabesh on the sides, the rest is incomprehensible to her.  
  
  
Deciding she wants none of _that,_ because they must be ancient and therefore near irreplaceable, she keeps walking. There’s a wide staircase to the back left of the first floor, shining wood with a golden railing. It leads up to the railing of the second and third floors, where Rey sees more railings across them and more shelving units. These, thankfully, look like regular data files and archives and _kriff_ were those _holocrons_?  
  
  
Sighing, she looks up again. The ceilings are vaulted with delicate, sloping arches, light by filigreed lights that emit ambient, golden glows. There are, of course, _murals_ there as well. Beautiful renderings of Theed and the Lake Country. In _paint.  
  
  
_ “What do you think?” Ben has followed her like a ghost, and stops just short of touching her. His voice sounds a little breathy to her.  
  
  
Eyes still trained on the ceiling, Rey shakes her head. “This is a disaster.”  
  
  
The last word echoes multiple times throughout the majestic room.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“We’re going to need durasteel shutters for all of those windows-”  
  
  
Across from her, Ben holds on tightly to the edge of the table. She’s taken over one of the reading areas in the library to discuss her security...adjustments.  
  
  
“And electrosensors on the globes, in case someone attempts to use it as a recording device-”  
  
  
His jaw works.  
  
  
“Another way of getting down from the higher stories would be helpful, too. We don’t want only one exit point-”  
  
  
“Why don’t we set all the murals on fire,” he suggests with a dark calm.  
  
  
Rey looks up from her datapad, frowning. “No, that’s not necessary.” She tilts her head to the side. “Actually, that paint is likely flammable. We should consider installing hydroworks in case someone attempts arson-”  
  
  
“And water-log the paper books that have been in the Naberrie family for thousands of years.”  
  
  
She meets his gaze. “What’s the matter?”  
  
  
He’s visibly upset, anger roiling like currents under his skin. “Did the library _offend_ you?” He asks dryly.  
  
  
“Why would a library offend me?”  
  
  
“You called it a disaster.”  
  
  
“In terms of security regulations, it is.”  
  
  
His eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly. “Not to me.”  
  
  
Rey leans forward, concern filling her at him being so obviously upset. “I’m just trying to do a good job.”  
  
  
“Maybe,” he says through gritted teeth, “I didn’t want you to see it as a job.”  
  
  
“That’s the only reason I looked at it-”  
  
  
“Well, you don’t have to look at it anymore!”  
  
  
Ben pushes his chair back (lifting the back legs first, Rey notices quietly), and without another word he’s storming from the room.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
She decides the right thing to do is give him some space. So she does. About ten minutes of it, before she’s casting out her senses and trying to locate him in the Force. He isn’t a flare as much as an ember, now, and Rey thinks she’s coming to learn something about Ben. He’s quick to anger, quick to lash out, but he also seems like someone who wants to bite back whatever it is that flies out. He reminds her, a bit, of the creatures Bobbajo used to have on Jakku. They’d snap at anything trying to feed it.  
  
  
She lets her intuition guide her down a maze of halls she hasn’t explored yet, intrinsically knowing that these must lead to Ben’s quarters. Like the library, there’s a couple of mismatched frames to the artwork hanging on the side, but she files that observation away for another time. Perhaps one where she doesn’t have a former Senator banishing her from looking at insecure libraries.  
  
  
Once she finds the door he’s behind, she thinks nothing of drawing her fingers across the air in front of it and sliding the room open with the Force. She doesn’t bother looking at the surroundings as she walks in.  
  
  
“Look, I think we’ve misunderstood-”  
  
  
Ben stands before what looks like a wardrobe, his tunic off and chest bare. At the sound of her voice, he turns his head.  
  
  
“-something.” She clears her throat, looking down out of respect. In the temple, such sights weren’t uncommon, but she knows it works differently outside the Order. “Sorry. I can come back. Let you put on a gown or poncho or something.”  
  
  
He’s staring at her again, she can tell. And for some reason this time feels different. It’s like there’s a vibration in the air, that rattles against her skin because she aggressively thinks she shouldn’t be in here right now and he should be yelling at her or something. Rey...feels like she’s violated his privacy.  
  
  
Instead, he acts like this is completely normal. She hears the close of a cabinet and his heavy footfalls.  
  
  
“It’s fine,” he mutters, suddenly close. She feels his arm graze against her skin as he reaches past her.  
  
  
Rey looks over her shoulder to see that she’s standing in front of some kind of hanger. She takes a step to the side, and Ben straightens the article of clothing he’s grabbed. His stomach muscles flex as he bends over to shrug it on. When he straightens, he’s wearing a simple, asymmetrical tunic that looks absurdly soft.  
  
  
“What is it?” He says neutrally.  
  
  
She exhales. Slowly. “I’ve upset you,” she starts.  
  
  
He takes a few steps further into the room. He mumbles something, and the lighting flares up. She’s...surprised by it, in honesty. She had expected something coldly aesthetic like his apartment on Theed, but instead she’s in a room furnished in warm, dark colors--burgundies, reds, browns, golden yellows. There is a clearly functional _bed_ to the side, as well as a few divans that look as comfortable as the ones in the library.  
  
  
In fact...Ben’s room looks rather like a library. There’s a few shelves, stocked with datafiles from top to bottom, and a wide hover desk to the side of the room. It’s tall, likely bespoke for his frame, and is splattered with ink. There’s rows of feathered pens and sharpened quills, as well as stacks of creamy, parchment-like leathers or paper.  
  
  
She thinks back to the callus on the inside of his finger. He’s an artist. No, her brain corrects, a calligrapher.  
  
  
“You didn’t upset me,” he says, picking some kind of orb up and studying it, clearly at a loss for what to do with his hands otherwise.  
  
  
“Don’t lie,” she says crossly. Uninvited, she takes a seat at his desk and starts looking at his works. She tears her attention away to face him, spinning idly side to side on the small hover stool that goes with the desk. “You literally stormed out.”  
  
  
He doesn’t answer her, attention focused on the orb in his hands. Staring at it more closely, it’s a blue-purple glass that looks like it has a small lightning storm inside. Fitting.  
  
  
“You said you have no interest in reading.”  
  
  
That throws her off. She blinks. “You’re mad because I didn’t want to read in the library?”  
  
  
“I’m not mad,” he growls. He takes a breath, looks up, and sets the orb back on a shelf. “I’m trying to understand you.”  
  
  
She spreads her legs, and braces her forward weight on two hands between them. “I’ve already told you about Jakku.”  
  
  
“That’s not the same as understanding someone.”  
  
  
She’s confused by this entire exchange, but it’s harmless enough, and so she spreads her arms wide. “Well, what do you want to know about me?”  
  
  
“Why don’t you like reading?”  
  
  
“I was illiterate until Obi Wan found me,” she says with a roll of her shoulders. “Once I got to the temple, the librarians spent hours everyday with me to catch up to the other younglings. After that, it was studying the sacred philosophies and histories so I might pass my padawan trials. Then to earn my knighthood.” Rey rests her chin on the heel of her hand. “It’s work, that’s all. Not a hobby.”  
  
  
He sits on the bed across from her. “Your hobbies, then.”  
  
  
She smiles. “Flying. I love flying.” She grins. “I used to get into so much trouble with the Masters for sneaking out and competing in swoop races in the Undercity.”  
  


“So you’re a moon jockey.”  
  
  
Rey fails to stifle the giggle at that. “Yeah, I suppose. I also fix things in my spare time. I like being in the garage.” She sends a soft, almost wistful look at Ben’s calligraphy set. “I used to draw, too. Not anything like this, but. You know. On datapads and such. Sometimes metal scouring.”  
  
  
“You don’t anymore?”  
  
  
She considers the question, then shakes her head. “Not really since being Knighted. Galaxy to save, and all.” Rey traces a finger over one of the pens, knowing they must be outrageously expensive but compelled to do so regardless. “You’re a calligrapher, then?”  
  
  
His voice is the voice of death. “My mother thought it would help my temper.”  
  
  
Rey snorts. “Didn’t work.”  
  
  
She looks up to meet his eyes, and sees him smiling. It’s closed lipped, but it’s still the kind that lets her know he actually has dimples in his cheeks. “Maybe not,” he agrees.  
  
  
They sit there, staring at each other for a moment or two. His knees are just a little bit apart from hers, and when he shifts forward, they bump into hers.  
  
  
“Rey…” he begins.  
  
  
“Yes?”  
  
  
Ben takes a long breath. “I should tell you-”  
  
  
Just then, smooth Bith jizz sounds off--cantina music breaking the comfortable silence like a lightning strike on a beach. Rey cringes, because there is only one person who would set his incoming message sound to _that.  
  
  
_ Rey looks down at her datapad. On its screen is just a short, brief message that elicits a groan:

  
 _Achem._ _  
_ _  
_  
“Stang,” she whispers, running her thumb over the power control.  
  
  
“Is it Finn again?” Ben demands, clearly annoyed at the interruption.  
  
  
Rey shakes her head. “Worse. Kyp.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Kyp Durron’s appointment as the new Grand Master of the Jedi High Council had been a contentious one, to say the least. Following the passing of Obi Wan, Yoda had served as the interim leader, but it was clear he would refuse the permanent position.  
  
  
“Had my time, I have,” he had explained to her when she was younger and impetuous, “Always forward, this Council’s guidance must move.”  
  
  
Rey never knew the official nominees for the position, only the High Council was privy to that information, but the rumors were that it was a close race between Kyp Durron, Saba Sebatyne, and, most surprisingly, Phasma--Finn’s Master. The self-proclaimed “blister in the Jedi Order’s boot” won, though it was apparent that many of the other Masters on the High Council did not agree.  
  
  
Anakin, though, had not been among them. After hearing who would replace Obi Wan, he had only grinned and said something along the lines of “Serves them right.”  
  
  
When Rey returns the holocomm to the Grand Master, she’s treated to a somewhat typical sight. Kyp’s dark, slightly wavy hair is threaded with grey and hangs loose to his shoulders. His green eyes have permanent crinkles at the corner--from years of self-satisfied smirking, she assumes. He’s committed to wearing his frayed, green Corellian cape over a pair of well-worn black robes instead of the ceremonial garb of his appointment, and his boots are scuffed without even an attempt at polish.  
  
  
“This is your Grand Master?” Ben grumbles in her ear. He stands to the side, out of focus of the datapad’s view. She had allowed him to watch if he kept silent. He’s already broken rule number one.  
  
  
Rey sends him an arch look, as if to say _He’s new at it.  
  
  
_ Currently, the Grand Master is sitting in his regular chair in the Jedi Council Room on Coruscant, although his legs dangle off of one of the armrests and his elbow is propped on the other one--the picture of repose. He sends her a side-glance as he bites into what looks like an apple of some kind.  
  
  
“ _Where you been, Stormcloud?”_ His tone is casual in the way that lets her know she’s in trouble.  
  
  
She bristles at the terrible nickname he’s refused to let die. “Naboo.”  
  
  
He bites into his apple. Slowly. Crunches loudly. In her peripheral, she sees Ben’s eye give a light twitch. “ _...why?”  
  
  
_ Rey squares her shoulders. “Anakin’s last wish was for me to come here.”  
  
  
Kyp snorts. “ _I bet it was_.”  
  
  
She frowns. “What?”  
  
  
“ _Nevermind. What are you doing on Naboo, my darling Knight errant?”  
  
  
_ “I’m running protection for a Senator.”  
  
  
Kyp squints. “ _That sounds like a bad holodrama._ ”  
  
  
She narrows her eyes in return. “Well. It’s not. There’s already been an assassination attempt on him.”  
  
  
“ _Him_?”  
  
  
“Yes. Him.”  
  
  
“ _How tall is he?”  
  
  
_ “Why does that matter?”  
  
  
“ _Trust me, it matters.”  
  
  
_ Rey sighs, sending Ben a sidelook. He is very still, but she avoids gauging his expression in favor of estimating his height.  
  
  
“About 190 centimeters?”  
  
  
Kyp lets out a low whistle. “ _That’s tall.”_ He gives a dismissive wave toward where Ben’s standing. “ _Time for you to go, tall Senator in need of protection from a scrappy, young knight. We have Jedi business to discuss._ ”  
  
  
Ben visibly bristles, and goes to open his mouth-  
  
  
Rey sends him a look that could boil acid. ‘Do not.’ she mouths.  
  
  
He glowers at her before he turns and leaves his own room, slamming the double doors on his way out.  
  
  
Kyp sits up correctly in his chair. “ _He gone_?”  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
 _“Good.”_ He tosses the apple over his shoulder, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. “ _Look, I get that this is all symbolic and important to you and you’re on a mission to find yourself or something-”  
  
  
_ “I’m doing this for Anakin-”  
  
  
He lifts his hand. “ _-but next time, leave a note?”_ He rubs at his salt and pepper stubble. “ _You have responsibilities, Rey. You can’t just go off across the galaxy because Anakin felt like a cryptic last exit.”  
  
  
_ Rey frowns at his phrasing, but takes a moment to swallow past the anger. He’s right. They both know he’s right. “...Please let me stay here,” is all she manages. “Until I know why I’ve been sent.”  
  
  
Kyp stares at her. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. “ _Young people,_ ” he mutters, despite being just barely into middle-age himself. “ _Fine, on the condition that when I call you in,_ I call you in. _Service to the Order has to come before personal agendas,”_ His tone softens, just a little, “ _You know that, Rey._ ”  
  
  
She bows her head, relief flooding every muscle of her body. “I understand. Thank you.”  
  
  
Kyp rolls his eyes up. “ _Whatever. Check in every standard week._ ”  
  
  
And just like that, the comm is terminated.  
  
  
Rey sighs, combs a hand through her hair, and decides that she’s going to give Ben some actual space this time.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The rest of the day passes slowly enough. Rey spends some time with Padme in the afternoons, getting a quick run down of Naboo customs and traditions. The older woman had gracefully suggested it the day before, after Rey had tried to yet again eat a non-functional garnish at lunch.  
  
  
After her lessons, Rey takes dinner in her own quarters, pouring over the latest debriefing from Luke. Moab Ken was an employee of the Hutts, part of the underground gambling and fighting circuits on Nar Shaddaa. Luke was looking into making contact with some RSF agents on the moon. Once she’s done updating her own notes, she checks in with Finn, and the two talk about how his own bodyguarding mission is going--which is terrible. His charge has apparently been flirting with him the whole time, and Rey says a quick whisper of thanks to the Force for her own, vastly different situation.  
  
  
Once she’s finished with meditation, it’s time to meet Ben for his lessons. While she thinks he might be upset at her...again...she doubts he’ll miss their training time. And so she suits up, donning one of her lighter training outfits instead of her official Jedi robes. A simple tank, her wrist guards, and loose pants that collect below the knee. Her lightsaber, she leaves in the room, a part of her suspecting Ben might want to use it. Something she doesn’t think either of them are ready for.  
  
  
Instead, she grabs her small, handheld blaster pistol. It had been a present from Anakin, on her fifteenth name day once he found out she was _moon jockeying_ in the Undercity. It had a stun setting--meant more to annoy or startle than seriously harm, and would work well for the exercise she had in mind.  
  
  
Rey opens a window, and slides down to the balcony below it. Then the next one. And the one after that. Finally, her feet hit the sand, and she takes a light jog toward where they had agreed to meet. In only a minute, she sees his silhouette in the distance, staring out at the lake.  
  
  
Rey smiles, although she’s not sure why, since it’s not a surprise he’s here.

  
Something strained about him instantly uncoils, and he smiles back.

  
\--  
  
  
“You _do_ have to shoot me for this to work, you know,” she says, irritation leaking into her voice as she stands with her toe tapping in the sand.  
  
  
“I’m thinking,” he snarls back.  
  
  
“Your part doesn’t need any thinking, just shoot!”  
  
  
“Don’t rush me!”  
  
  
“It’s been ten minutes!”  
  
  
The pair of them stand about fifteen feet apart, as though having a showdown outside the Mos Eisley cantina. Ben has her blaster pistol in hand, and she’s standing, waiting for him to fire it.  
  
  
“What’s wrong?” She finally asks, after another minute or so of him waffling.  
  
  
He glares at her, as though offended she’d ask. Finally, having enough, Rey crosses the sand between them and outstretches her hand, palm up.  
  
  
“Give it here.”  
  


“I have this,” he insists.  
  
  
“You do not. Now hand it over.”  
  
  
His glare continues, but she doesn’t drop her hand. After a minute or two of standing off against each other, he scowls and puts the weapon in her hand.  
  
  
“Okay. Now watch,” she raises a finger, “ _Carefully._ ”  
  
  
Rey drops her grip from the blaster, but it stays hovering in the air. She tilts her hand to the side, and it rotates up, nozzle aiming at her. She retraces her steps until she’s back at her starting position. Using the toe of her boot, she starts to draw lines in the sand, the majority of which at 45 degree angles.  
  
  
“Now, the first thing to be considerate about with blaster deflection is the ricochet-” she taps on one of her lines with her boot. “Depending on the angle of the shot, and the block, you have to be careful or you might hurt someone protecting yourself.” She points at the blaster. “If I were to shoot that, and just swat it away, you might get hit. Got it?”  
  
  
“It is geometry,” he says in that tone of his when he believes something is beneath him.  
  
  
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, then. Second thing--remember the ocean?”  
  
  
He nods.  
  
  
“Picture it rising up, making a wall. I like to pretend mine freezes. That’s how you make barriers with the Force. The stronger the wall, the harder blaster shots you can deflect.” She straightens her shoulders. “When we get this down, I’ll see if you can learn about stopping them. But for now…” She plants her boots soundly in the sand. “Ready?”  
  
  
Grimly, he nods. Not before, she notices, he rechecks the blaster’s settings again.  
  
  
“Right, then.” She winks, “Fire!”  
  
  
The blaster shoots off, and Rey brings up her arm. The blaster bolt bounces off of her palm, flying into the lake water with a short hiss. “That’s how it is in real time. Now I’ll do it slower, so you can see it a little better. Fire!”  
  
  
This time it emits like a slug, crawling toward her less than a centimeter a second.  
  
  
“At this point, I don’t think about seeing it anymore.” Rey explains.  
  
  
As the blaster still sails, slowly, she leaves her spot, grabs Ben’s arm, and near-drags him to stand in her place. With the efficient movements of a mechanic re-ordering a droid, she props out his feet by pushing his thighs apart, then his arms. She pulls back his shoulders and stands directly behind him.  
  
  
Standing on her tiptoes, she lifts herself up so she can mimic his line of sight. Some of her breath might land on his neck or ear, and she makes a note to apologize for that later. “Alright, this is going to sound...off, but for this time I want you to close your eyes.”  
  
  
Nothing.  
  
  
“Ben?”  
  
  
A clearing of the throat. “What?”  
  
  
“Close your eyes.”  
  
  
“...What for?”  
  
  
“The deflection. What else would it be?”  
  
  
His muscles seem to strain under the hands she has on his shoulders, so she lets them drop. After a second, she also takes a step back.  
  
  
“Use your other perceptions. Sight is weak if used alone, and is nothing compared to the Force.”  
  
  
He doesn’t seem sold on this idea, but obediently follows her instruction.  
  
  
Rey smiles. “Okay, good. I’m going to bring the bolt to us, and I want you to hit it away without looking. Got it?”  
  
  
He murmurs something that sounds positive enough.  
  
  
Moving around him, Rey slowly uses her mind to pull the bolt closer to them. Once she gets it in front of Ben’s chest, she lets it hover.  
  
  
“Okay,” she whispers, voice slightly strained as she divides her attention. “Do you feel it? Over your heart?”  
  
  
“...yes.”  
  
  
“Send it away.”  
  
  
Ben breathes in through his back. He lifts his hand. But instead of sending it out in a deflection, he does something else. She almost feels it, as though his resolve is a tangible thing.  
  
  
Rey watches, eyes wide, as he cups the blaster bolt into his palms. It morphs, molding to it, and instantly Rey can feel the strain of controlling its force leave her body as Ben shares it. As the bolt becomes a small orb, much like the one he was staring at earlier in his room.  
  
  
“Rey,” he mutters.  
  
  
“Yes?”  
  
  
“Come here.”  
  
  
Her feet seem to move of their own accord, stopping just before one of the lines she drew earlier in the sand. She’s already watching Ben’s face when his eyes lazily drift open. The red of the blaster bolt sparks in the dark blue of the night, almost casting his face in hues of purple.  
  
  
The toes of her boots are just a few inches from the toes of his. In between their bodies, he cradles the blaster bolt in his palm, making it look like his chest is glowing.  
  
  
“Like this?” He whispers. Because of the glow, she sees her reflection in his eyes.  
  
  
And Rey feels it again, that strange and alien thing she experienced the first time she saw him on the tarmac. That _pull._ Looking in his eyes at that moment, she can almost believe he feels it too. She does not recognize the look in his eyes, or understand why everything about him had suddenly become drawn and taut.  
  
  
Rey lets go of a small breath, before she brings up her fingers to cover the outside of his. Soon, they are both holding the blaster bolt.  He doesn’t break eye contact with her as she lifts both of their hands up, up above their heads.  
  
  
“Almost,” she says, before using her fingers to pull back his hold on the orb.  
  
  
The blaster bolt shoots straight up into the sky, a streak of red eventually swallowed by that blue-black of Lake Country sky. He brings their hands down to rest before his chest. She feels his heart beating, the vibrations of it. For some reason, she’s agonizingly nervous, as, once again, his thumb slides over her knuckles.  
  
  
 _What are you doing?_ She wants to ask, but for once her blunt demeanor is failing her, because the words won’t leave her suddenly dry mouth.  
  
  
So instead, she only dips her chin down, and withdraws her touch from his. “That’s enough.”  
  
  
He looks at her, his now empty hands dropping to his sides. “For now,” he agrees.  
  
  
Rey sends him an uncertain look, before she reaches down into the sand, grabs her blaster pistol, and makes her way back to her room without another look back. Palms sweaty and heart beating harder than usual.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The next morning, she wakes up to a stack of thin paper and a collection of charcoal resting innocently next to her lightsaber and datapad on the nightstand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUSE BABY YOU'RE A FIREEEEEEEEEEEWORK
> 
>  
> 
>  _Inspiration pictures!_  
> [Ben's geometric armor tunic ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/88/87/38/888738f050ab522611ace35d20eced57.jpg)  
> [Ben's soft boy soft shirt](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/74/e6/eb/74e6eb996f7c3a0c735b067d084b3ad0.jpg)   
> [Majestic ass library (and obvs inspired by the beauty and the beast moment with THE GRAND REVEAL that rey's not into oops)](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/391332694027403294/404444527756050447/e46d0bd984e481c6b7134188136f2db0.png?width=414&height=585)
> 
>  _EU/Lore links!_  
> [Convergence](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Convergence_\(Naboo\)), the Palpatine family estate 8'| (note: i know in canon, sheev sells it off before ROTS events but i'm Rule of Cooling)  
> [Kyp Durron, the trash son of my life](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Kyp_Durron)
> 
>  
> 
> -Kyp's preprogrammed his incoming message sound to be a bith cantina/space version of Toxic by Britney Spears  
> -also there's a Matt the Radar Technician quote in there because I Cannot Help Myself


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick little chap! hope you all enjoy <3 as always, thank you for the wonderful support you've given this fic! im super floored by the reaction to it, and your fab comments make me write faster!
> 
> Also, poll time! Would y'all be interested in a side fic that has some of Ben & Padme's off-screen interactions? Sort of like a behind-the-scenes drabble series?

**\--** **  
** **29 ABY** **  
** **\--**

His wife flickering into being made a smile grow on his face. No matter what time he comm’d her, she always looked beautiful. Even on nights like tonight, where she was wearing nothing more than a billowing robe cinched at the waist, her silver hair lying loose and cascading over her shoulders. It reminded him of the old days on Coruscant. Before everything.  
  
  
_“Anakin? What is it?”_ She asks around a yawn. She’s not quite demanding, yet. It’s not uncommon, after all, for him to comm her or the kids at odd hours just because he misses them. While it’s mid-afternoon on Coruscant, he expected it to be well into the night on Naboo.  
  
  
His mouth goes into that boyish grin he’s pretty sure earned him a marriage. “I’ve missed you too.”  
  
  
She sends him a cross look across the stars, but he knows she wants to smile. He can see it, in the slight crease between her brows. “ _You know I’ve missed you. You also,”_ her gaze sharpens at this, “ _Know what time it is in Theed._ ”  
  
  
He turns the grin into a smile, and her expression softens at it. “I need your help with something,” he admits.  
  
  
Padme raises a brow, moving to sit on something as she leans forward. “ _I imagine it must be important._ ”  
  
  
“You have no idea.”  
  
  
“ _Well?”  
  
  
_ He sighs, stretching out his legs before him and folding his hands behind his head. “It’s about Rey.”  
  
  
It’s not the first time he’s told Padme about his padawan. Along with Obi Wan, she is his most trusted counsel. And sometimes it’s counsel he needs with the stubborn, tenacious girl. Especially for circumstances not related to the Jedi.  
  
  
She delicately stifles a yawn behind the palm of her hand. “ _Is she alright?”  
  
  
_ He thinks about that question for a moment, rolls it around in his mind. “Yes, although sometimes too much like her old Master for the Council’s good.”  
  
  
Humor sparks in Padme’s eyes. “ _Maybe it’s just another form of Balance. You have the padawan you were to Obi Wan.”  
  
  
_ He snorts. “People keep saying that.” He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling so he can’t see her expression when he asks his next question. “She’s fourteen, now,” he begins.  
  
  
“ _A difficult time,”_ Padme sympathizes. She, after all, had been Queen of a _planet_ at that age.  
  
  
“And I can’t stop thinking…” Anakin sighs. “That you were that age when I met you and…” He shakes his head. “She’s going to start wanting to…”  
  
  
“ _Make attachments?”_ Padme offers diplomatically.  
  
  
He couldn’t stop the smirk if he wanted to. “If that’s what the kids are calling it these days.”  
  
  
Padme doesn’t rise to his bait, instead silent in thought. “ _Does she have any other Masters she can discuss this with?”  
  
  
_ “Why?”  
  
  
“... _you’re not exactly an exemplar for following that rule.”  
  
  
_ He winces. “It's a stupid rule."  
  
  
Nevertheless, Anakin thinks, and almost immediately his mind goes to Saba Sebatyne. Then Phasma. Then Tionne. He sighs. None of them _feel_ right for Rey. “I feel like this is my responsibility.”  
  
  
“ _Anakin,”_ she says with humor, “ _I do believe you’re growing up.”  
  
  
_ “Ha ha.”  
  
  
Padme withdraws something from off the feed, and he notices the gleam of a datapad screen come into focus. She starts typing some things into it. “ _I’ll send you some notes,”_ she offers, sounding distracted.  
  
  
“You’re an angel.”  
  
  
She raises a brow but does not look up from the screen. “ _I think we both know that doesn’t work anymore.”  
  
  
_ He grins suggestively anyways. Padme lovingly makes a “shoo” motion before the holofeed cuts off.  
  
  
**\--** **  
****34 ABY** **  
****\--** **  
****  
** Rey barely stops herself from overtly drooling when the servants place down platters. Small cakes, little pastries, and large slices of fruit cover the outdoor table from end to end, with barely enough space for her to set her dish and tea cup down.  
  
  
_Brunch,_ Padme had called it. Rey thinks it might be nothing short of a miracle.  
  
  
This morning finds the two women to themselves--Ben having to take a holo meeting about some recent land zoning policies. Normally, Rey would sit in, but Padme’s suggestion of food and sun sounded far more appealing.  
  
  
Judging by these cakes, she made the right call.  
  
  
The two of them sit out on the balcony of the Mist Room (or whatever it was called), the lake air pleasant and the temperature mild and cozy. There’s the distant chirping of avians, and Rey thinks it might be the best view she’s had in a long time.  
  
  
“Thank you for all this,” she says, eying the Force out of one of those eclairs.  
  
  
“It’s nothing. Are your new clothes to your liking?”  
  
  
“Yes, very. Thank you.”  
  
  
With only a handful of robes and training outfits to her, Rey had needed laundering. Padme, the most perfect host, had loaned her some of her and Leia’s old clothes. Rey was without a doubt relieved to find that they all mimicked her usual taste-- sleeveless tunics and leggings, without all the finery of Padme’s usual wardrobe. Today, she wore a sleeveless, dark red and velveteen tunic that ended above her knees, with some black leggings underneath. It could have been a variation of a Jedi robe, if not for the luxurious material.  
  
  
Padme delicately places the eclair on her plate. “You look tired,” she observes.  
  
  
Possibly because she had a hard time sleeping, after whatever that was on the beach. But Rey knows she can’t exactly talk about Ben to Padme--the two of them are clearly close, and always on the same side. So instead she cuts the eclair into bite-size pieces, using the back of the fork and the pastry knife, as she had been instructed yesterday, and chews. After years at the temple, Rey has discovered that _eating_ was one way out of _answering.  
  
  
_ “You must miss the temple,” she continues. “No doubt Naboo is something of a culture shock to you.”  
  
  
Rey swallows. “I do, but I like Naboo more than I thought I would.” She clears her throat. “Provided there’s no more state dinners.”  
  
  
She smiles at that, taking a sip of her tea. “A politician’s work is never done,” she sends Rey A Look that she can’t decipher, “Just like there’s always eyes watching.”  
  
  
Rey immediately slips her elbows off the table. What might be a grin passes over Padme’s lips before she takes another sip.  
  
  
“You learn quickly,” she compliments.  
  
  
“Thanks,” Rey says, watching her as she carefully emulates Padme’s sip. “I don’t want to embarrass any of you.”  
  
  
Padme looks honestly surprised. “Rey,” she says softly, setting her cup down. “There’s only honor at having you here. We, and Naboo, are indebted to you for being here.” Her hand rests on top of Rey’s own, a gold band on her finger catching the sun. “You saved many lives at that Ministry dinner, Ben’s included.”  
  
  
The sincerity of the statement makes Rey’s ears burn. “Just doing what any Jedi would do,” she mumbles.  
  
  
Padme stares at her, before giving a resolute shake of her head. “I have known many Jedi,” she begins, “And I suspect there are few who would go to the lengths you are going to for your Master.”  
  
  
Something about hearing those words makes Rey’s eyes sting. “Anakin was like a father to me,” she whispers.  
  
  
The hand on Rey’s squeezes. “I know,” Padme says in an equally soft tone. “You were very dear to him.”  
  
  
Rey stares. Hazel eyes lock on brown, and for some reason, Rey just _knows_ that what Padme says is true. That it _means something,_ coming from this woman. She rubs the back of her hand against her eyes.  
  
  
“I’d. Better get to Luke’s intel reports,” she mutters, embarrassed at her crying.  
  
  
“Rey,” Padme insists, “There is nothing wrong with taking the time to grieve. Or to enjoy. Or feel.”  
  
  
As if to emphasize her point, she drops another eclair onto Rey’s plate.  
  
  
Rey looks at her, and understands why Anakin would want this woman’s family protected with his dying breath.  
  
  
“Thank you,” she says, not sure how many more times she needs to say it until it feels like enough.  
  
  
“Don’t thank me,” Padme replies, “Just enjoy the morning.”  
  
  
The sun hits the lake, glittering like thousands of diamonds.  
  
  
\--  
  
Later, Rey is reviewing Luke’s gathered intel--not much--when the door to her quarters slides open. It is sometime past midday, inching well into the afternoon, and Rey has made herself cozy. Her booted feed are kicked up on the repulsor desk in the room, her body reclined in a hoverchair, elbows jutting out widely. She hasn’t bothered with doing her hair today, the length of it resting just at her shoulders.  
  
  
“Comfortable?” Comes the deep tone of Ben’s voice from somewhere near her door.  
  
  
She doesn’t look up from what she’s reading, index finger lazily sliding it up to view more of Moab Ken’s arrest record. “Catching up on Luke’s report.”  
  
  
His footfalls are loud, as always, to the point where it disrupts her. Rey catches herself on the same sentence for the third time before she looks up.  
  
  
“Could you loom somewhere else please?”  
  
  
Ben looks down, peering over her to see the datapad screen. He is  _stupidly_ tall. “Quite a record.”  
  
  
“And inconsistent,” she says with some pout in her voice.  
  
  
“Isn’t that what’s expected of a middle man?”  
  
  
“Yes, but it’d be better if there were a clear speciality. Burglary, encryption, assassination, etcetera.”  
  
  
“Why?”  
  
  
“Easier to find _his_ boss, that way-” and Rey almost falls over when Ben lightly grabs hold of her ankles and drops them to the floor.  
  
  
He takes their place, sitting in front of her with his knees on either side of the chair she’s sitting in. “Did you like them?”  
  
  
Rey has been trying not to think about _them_. Her eyes meet his, even though he’s practically towering over her in his seated position on the desk. “I think it’s not appropriate,” she says evenly.  
  
  
Ben frowns. “That’s not what I asked.”  
  
  
Rey shakes her head. “I don’t…I don’t have time for drawing when there’s an assassin after you.” She thinks back to brunch and decides the Naberries _all_ have this problem of trying to distract her. Although Ben’s attempt is different than his grandmother’s.  
  
  
He stares at her, before he stands. It makes Rey scoot back on impulse.  
  
  
“I’m going to practice my calligraphy,” he states blankly. “As my bodyguard, I request that you accompany me.”  
  
  
With that he leaves and Rey stares, slightly open-mouthed, at the door.

  
\--  
  
  
She knows what he’s doing.  
  
  
Rey sits on the other side of the table, now lowered enough for the pair of them to be on the floor. Ben had ordered servants to bring in cushions for them, and Rey’s knees were digging into hers as she remained in a guarded pose. Across from her, Ben was almost a picture of contrast. His legs were too long to place under the table, and so he leaned on his side, one elbow lazily propping up the side of his head while the other hand focused on painting some characters.  
  
  
He looks...a lot younger. This way. The sun filters in through the window, hitting his profile, and Rey listlessly wonders if she finds him to be an attractive person. It doesn’t matter one way or the other, really, but it’s either that or look at the pile of drawing materials that she is _not_ going to touch, because touching them means accepting them.  
  
  
He doesn’t quite look like his grandmother, but she sees the similarities. His face is much longer, his chin weaker and mouth fuller. He has dark shadows under his eyes, and Rey feels a sting of guilt at seeing them. Perhaps her hours for training are too late? Too early? Too long? It would reflect poorly on her if she made her charge ill by attempting to protect him. She does like his hair. She thinks that can be objective.

  
“What are you staring at?” He asks, not looking up from where his brush dances across the canvas.  
  
  
“You,” she answers honestly, and the frankness of it must startle him, because he smears a line that he hastily dumps some white powder on.  
  
  
“Why?”  
  
  
She feels that if she told him the truth it would make him uncomfortable, so she settles on the next question in her mind. “How old are you?”  
  
  
He sets down his brush, looking at her. “Twenty nine.”  
  
  
Rey’s not sure what she expected, and her lack of a reaction prompts him to hesitantly ask, “Is that...alright?”  
  
  
It’s a strange question. “You can’t change your age.”  
  
  
He frowns, going back to his brush and letters. She watches his hands--deciding she quite likes them--as they glide across the surface. They make those unfamiliar characters she’s seen elsewhere in Naboo-- more scriptlike than the harsh, straight edges of aurabesh.  
  
  
“What language is that?” She asks.  
  
  
He looks up. “It’s the traditional Naboo language. Omar Berenko wrote exclusively in it.”  
  
  
Rey tilts her head. Ben clearly likes kidnapped poets. “It’s pretty.”  
  


What she expects is some kind of rant or tantrum about how pretty is too simple, but what she gets instead is a nervous, little smile.  
  
  
“I agree,” is all he says, looking right at her. Time stretches for a few more minutes, before he looks up at her archly. “You might as well draw. I’m not stopping until you start.”  
  
  
Rey blinks. “You’re threatening me into a hobby?”  
  
  
“Negotiating.” There’s a flicker of something across his face. Amusement, maybe. At her expense.  
  
  
“I’m not a politician, but I believe negotiating means I get something in return.”  
  
  
There’s something warm in his gaze. “Name it.”  
  
  
Rey considers, carefully. “No training tonight.” When he looks ready to interrupt, she adds: “Get some sleep,” as a low mutter.  
  
  
There’s a tense second of silence, one in which she stares intently at her lap. After a moment, she grabs the drawing supplies and spreads them out in front of her. Then she sends him an equally arch look, as if to say _Happy now?  
  
  
_ Wordlessly, Ben begins to prime another piece of canvas for his calligraphy, but Rey sees a smile on his lips.

  
She likes him better when he smiles, she decides.  
  


\--

  
She loses track of time in her designs. At first, picking up the piece of charcoal feels like boots that don’t fit. It sits awkwardly in her hand, she keeps pressing too hard. Its smudge covers the side of her hand almost entirely, and she makes a stupid mistake in letting her forearm drag across the paper--taking dust with it.  
  
  
But after an hour or so, the muscle memory of it starts to come back. She curves her edges, makes some attempts at shading and gradients. Rey scratches her cheek, oblivious to the streak across it, as she starts to draw another flower. What looks back at her are a series of Novablooms, the first ones cruder than the ones that come after it. By the time she does the sixth or seventh variation, they’re starting to look like they used to. Back when she was younger, and Obi Wan would sneak her paints and graphite sticks because it was important to be  _civilized.  
  
  
_ “How old are you?”  
  
  
The question breaks that precious silence that existed between her and the paper, and Rey looks up somewhat disoriented. “Hm?”  
  
  
Ben is staring at her. And she feels a little embarrassed to realize that his canvas is dry and he has not started another one. Had he been watching her most of the time?  
  
  
“How old are you?” He asks again.  
  
  
She feels some defensiveness at the question. “I’m a full Knight,” she reminds him.  
  
  
He looks annoyed. “Just answer.”  
  
  
She bites the inside her cheek. “Around nineteen. Don’t have an official lifeday. Well, not until Anakin chose one for me.”  
  
  
Ben straightens in his seat. “Is he the reason you’ve stayed with the Order?”  
  
  
Another odd question. “It’s not like a job you leave whenever you want.”  
  
  
He grits his teeth. “I know that.” And then he’s silent in that angry, pointed way that means he wants her to elaborate.  
  
  
She sets down the charcoal, since they’re clearly having a Conversation at this point. “At first, yes. I…” She bites the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t understand about my family, when I was younger. I spent most of my time as a youngling trying to escape--go out and find my parents.” The memory is still painful, but the pain is of something dull and muted and constant. It’s never really left, so the hurt of it is never something that will catch her off-guard. “But Anakin _cared_ about me. He taught me how to salvage and repair things, helped me adapt. Maybe it’s because we were both slaves-”  
  
  
At this, a muscle in Ben’s cheek twitches.  
  
  
“-but he understood me a lot better than I understood myself, back then.” Her voice goes soft. “Him and Obi Wan were my first real family. Then Finn and Tenel Ka. And Zekk and Rose, though they weren’t in the Order.”  
  
  
“You talk about Finn a lot.”  
  
  
“Why wouldn’t I? He’s my best friend.”  
  
  
“I thought the Jedi weren’t allowed to have such attachments.” Perhaps she’s imagining it, but there’s a definite edge to the statement.  
  
  
She looks away. “We can’t forsake everything,” she finally decides, and it’s the first time she’s voiced such a philosophy. “Part of being a good Jedi means we need to know empathy and compassion.” Her eyes meet Ben’s. “I don’t see how that happens without caring for people.”  
  
  
“Your Council wouldn’t agree with you.”  
  
  
Rey laughs a little, at that. “I don’t always agree with my Council. Neither did Anakin.”  
  
  
Ben’s fist flexes, unflexes from where it rests on his knee. “Why not just leave, then? Do something else? Race swoops or…” He looks down at the paper, at the winding Novablooms. “Be an artist?”  
  
  
She shrugs, and the answer is as easy as air. “Because I’m a Jedi.”  
  
  
“But you don’t have to be.”  
  
  
“You don’t understand,” she says with a little irritation. “ _I’m a Jedi._ I believe in the Code, in trying to make the galaxy a better place. I…” Her cheeks feel hot at the next statement, a small confession she doesn’t think she’s ever said. But somehow it comes out easily under Ben’s unrelenting stare, his earnest attention. “I want to feel like I matter. Be part of something more.”  
  
  
Ben shifts, and it’s like there’s a war brewing in his chest judging from the microexpressions that cross his face. “Rey,” he says, and it sounds slightly choked. “You don’t need to be a Jedi to matter.”  
  
  
She stares at him, his words making her uncomfortable in a way she can’t articulate. “Why is this important to you?” Is what she finally settles on.  
  
  
He looks at her, and when his hand reaches out she flinches. But soon there’s only the gentle scrape of his thumb over the plane of her cheek, as he rubs away the streak of charcoal dust there.  
  
  
“Anakin’s gone,” is all he says, his voice deep. “Maybe it’s time to let go of the past.”  
  
  
She doesn’t like his words. Doesn’t like how they crawl and settle under her skin like silt in the river. Doesn't like that she knows if they were said by  _anyone else_ they'd have a fight on their hands. Doesn't like that she doesn't know why Ben is suddenly an exception. Rey exhales, her hands shaking slightly.  
  
  
“You don’t know me,” she says, trying to sound angry and failing.  
  
  
“I feel like I do,” he whispers. “Or, at least, I feel like I’d like to.”  
  
  
Rey’s eyes narrow. “Why?”  
  
  
He leans forward, and soon they’re close. So close, she thinks there’s almost something uncomfortable about it, like she’s aware of the...the _strangeness_ of proximity here even though they’ve been closer before.  
  
  
“I don’t know,” he says in that same deep voice. “Do I need a reason?”  
  
  
Something in her screams to leave this room, to go and shut herself in her quarters and read reports all day. Instead she remains seated, looking at his face and trying to understand what’s happening and why she feels so uneasy.  
  
  
“You’re lonely,” she breathes.  
  
  
“Yes,” he admits, and she hears the pain in it. The longing. “And so are you.”  
  
  
...Rey finds she has nothing to say to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's new outfit inspiration (though picture with more...yoga-pantsy leggings)](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/0e/46/330e46469af629402370f1dbf017fb1c.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> Rey being an artist is inspired by her drawings in the middle grade novel [Rey's Survival Guide](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Rey%27s_Survival_Guide). Here's a [picture of flowers](https://78.media.tumblr.com/a9004715b378d8504ce253b174e36f5e/tumblr_ouran1aqoM1tx2px0o1_250.jpg) she drew :D
> 
>  
> 
> [Tionne Solusar](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Zekk>Zekk</a>%0A<a%20href=)  
> [Saba Sebatyne](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Saba_Sebatyne)  
> [Zekk](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Zekk)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope yall have as much fun reading this chapter as i did writing it ;) thank you again for your wonderful comments <3

\--  
**29 ABY** **  
** \--  
  
It is another week where Anakin is off-planet, once again not taking her with, and so Rey finds herself trying to find things to occupy her time. It starts with going to the garage, but there aren’t any new ships and she updated all the astromechs and maintenance droids yesterday when she was similarly bored. Obi Wan, after seeing her break one of the temple’s repulsor lifts just to reassemble it again, sent her to weed the community gardens that morning. But eventually that task, too, was finished.  
  
  
So she decides to look for Finn, to pester him as he’s no doubt getting used to. Eventually, she senses him in the training areas. Out of sympathy, Rey winces. It is well known that Master Phasma is not a kind or forgiving sparring instructor. The Jedi thing to do would be to respect the time between Master and Padawan, to find another means of diversion.  
  
  
Rey waits for about 10 minutes before she decides to just go there anyway, hoping that maybe Finn is finished and she can make adjustments to his lightsaber.  
  
  
The training rooms are usually one of her favorite parts of the temple, but today they seem cold. The other members of the temple, perhaps sensing Phasma’s presence, have made themselves scarce, and so all the noise seemed sucked out of the space as though with a vacuum.  
  
  
And Phasma’s voice, with its Coruscanti accent so similar to Rey’s, reverberates despite Rey not entering the training area.  
  
  
“Poor form.” Then, less than five seconds later: “Poor _form._ ” Another moment, then the sound of a light thwack! -- a sound Rey recognizes as one of the training noodles that she is sometimes hit with to correct her stances. “Poor. Form. Finn.”  
  
  
There’s a definite grumble in Finn’s response as it echoes in the hallway outside the training area. “Sorry.”  
  
  
“ _Sorry_?”  
  
  
He sighs. “Sorry, Master Phasma.”  
  
  
“Don’t offer supplication. Only improvement. _Again._ ”  
  
  
Immediately, Rey wants to charge in. To throw a wrench at Phasma’s head and tell her to _back off_ because that’s not how people teach. It’s not how _Anakin_ teaches-  
  
  
“No, but we all have our methods,” Obi Wan’s voice cuts in coolly, just as a hand falls on Rey’s shoulder--effectively stopping her from storming the room. “Phasma is strict, but her teaching is effective. Finn is one of our best fighters, and a respectful student. He will make for a fine combat specialist and strategist because of her training, should he choose that path.”

  
Rey immediately protests. “But she’s so cold-”  
  
  
“Perhaps,” Obi Wan suggests, “We should continue this line of conversation elsewhere.” A white, bushy eyebrow raises. “And not right outside the sparring rooms?”  
  
  
Rey frowns, but obediently follows Obi Wan when he turns to leave the way he came.

  
\--  
  
  
She ends up following him to the waterfalls.  
  
  
The Room of a Thousand Fountains was beautiful, a large greenhouse on the ground level of the temple with stone walkways, naturalistic foliage and slow-running ponds with lazy, fat fish inside of them. The fountains were just a series of small waterfalls that flowed from the cavernous walls. Rey knew for certain that there weren’t a thousand of them-- she had counted during one of the times TIonne had sent her here for “deep reflection” when she was bored in her history lectures.  
  
  
If it was a place by itself, it would have easily been Rey’s favorite place in the temple. However, there was an unspoken rule about the Thousand Fountains, and that was that it was a quiet place. It was not to be enjoyed, necessarily, but contemplated. The water not for swimming or playing but for helping draw a troubled mind into deeper meditation.  
  
  
Her and Obi Wan are hardly the only ones there. Sitting in various places around the area are bent over backs and folded legs clad in brown, blue, green, and beige tunics. Obi Wan stops a good distance from the nearest one-- an older Jedi Knight Rey remembers is called Streen-- and folds his hands into his sleeves. Then, he draws in a deep breath, and maybe it’s because of the stillness of the Fountains, but for the first time Rey hears a rattle in his chest as he does so.  
  
  
“Obi Wan,” she says, concerned, “Are you well?”  
  
  
Obi Wan gives her a comforting smile. “Only aging. A condition with no cure we should seek.”  
  
  
Worry hits her harshly at his words. “Have you been to a healer-?”  
  
  
His short, amused look, is enough to stop the question from finishing. “We are not here to talk about _me,_ Rey.”  
  
  
“Phasma is awful,” she says immediately.  
  
  
“I would not agree, but tell me your thoughts on the matter.”  
  
  
The pair of them stand on the edge of a smaller waterfall. Rey looks down, and glares at the moss-covered stones that line the water’s edge. “She’s…” She frowns. “She’s not Anakin.”  
  
  
“And what does that mean?”  
  
  
“She isn’t kind to Finn.”  
  
  
“Perhaps not,” Obi Wan’s voice takes on a distant quality. “But is kindness always the best teacher, I wonder?”  
  
  
Her face scrunches. “What do you mean?”  
  
  
He lets out a short chuff, absently rubbing a finger over the beard on his chin. “Just an old man, given to foolish thoughts every so often.” His gaze turns to her, sharpens. “You may not see it, but Phasma is training Finn to become a leader.” His voice softens. “We have high hopes for him, and you as well.”  
  
  
She blinks. “Me?”  
  
  
Obi Wan smiles. “You are strong in the Force, Rey, as you know. The strongest I have ever seen but...you _are_ distracted.”  
  
  
“I am not-”  
  
  
“Such things are inevitable in youth, of course,” Obi Wan continues, and again she hears that awful rattle in his chest. “But I have seen an important destiny for you, Rey, if you would only mind the teachings a bit more.”  
  
  
Her eyes round. “What...kind of destiny?”  
  
  
“I think I have learned it is better if you don’t know,” he says, and with a stiff motion, he lowers himself to his knees. He rests his palms on the outside of his thighs, eyes fluttering closed. “For now, let us meditate, and maybe we can discover the real reason for your restlessness.”  
  
  
Rey doesn’t care for meditation, but she _does_ care for Obi Wan. And so she sinks to her knees, and lets her ears only hear the trinkling of the fountain’s waters, until her mind disconnects from her body, and she is simply adrift.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Later that night, when Finn comes back to their quarters hissing and groaning in pain, Rey rolls over on her bunk to face him.  
  
  
“Finn?” She says into the dark, blanket tucked underneath her chin.  
  
  
“Yeah, Rey?” He asks, as he settles into his own bed.  
  
  
She grins. “Let’s leave the grounds tomorrow.”  
  
  
“Play hookey?”  
  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
  
A long pause, and then: “...yeah, okay.”

  
\--  
**34 ABY** **  
** \--  
  
The sun is just starting to rise over the top of the gardens, but Rey pays it no mind as she rotates her arms overhead, to the side, behind her back. In her hands, the hilt of her lightsaber rests easily, the weight familiar in her grip. Normally, she would go through forms with the blades ignited, but she didn’t want to risk Padme’s flowers, and it’s not as though the light makes a difference in weight for practice.  
  
  
Her muscles strain in a pleasant way, as she begins to go into standard combinations-- Soresu 2, Ataru 5, and so on, adding kicks and knee and elbow strikes as she speeds up and goes deeper into the routine. Her breathing pattern becomes more intentional, sharp kiai releasing as exhales while she spars an imaginary opponent. Unsurprisingly, she’s winning.  
  
  
At some point, she senses his presence, but she ignores it in favor of continuing her combinations. Rey figures that if Ben needs something from her, he’ll just say it. And it’s not time for her body to pause or rest yet, her Force perception attuned to her heart rate. Although her lungs are screaming for more oxygen, and her pulse is hammering in her ears, she keeps her features the holo of serenity--not allowing a betraying grimace or hard pant to escape until she finishes her final strike.  
  
  
She uses the tips of her left toes to pivot, bringing strength into the jab from her core. Her arm extends out, hilt in hand, as she brings her right knee into her stomach and then out for a kick-  
  
  
And stops her foot right before Ben’s chest. He looks down at it, intrigued, before stepping (somehow sarcastically?) to the right of it.  
  
  
Rey blinks, then slowly lowers her foot. Her bodily strain catches up with her, and she is acutely aware of how tense she is, how hard her inhales now come. She draws the back of her hand across her forehead and is not surprised to feel the warm slickness of sweat.  
  
  
“I thought you were sleeping in?” She manages once she’s caught her breathing.  
  
  
“I heard you training,” is his only answer.  
  
  
_Liar,_ she thinks, because he is already fully dressed. Unlike the intricate outfits he wears in Theed, or the soft ones he’s been favoring since they arrived at Varykino, the clothes today look like they were made for sturdier things than debate or calligraphy. A dark green overtunic made of a stiff-looking fabric covers a softer gold and grey one. His forearms have leather guards around them not unlike her own, and they match the braided leather belt around his waist. His boots are knee-high and are clearly more for function then form.  
  
  
She tilts her head, bemused, after she drinks deeply from her canteen. “Going somewhere?”  
  
  
“We’re going somewhere,” he corrects. “How fast can you pack for an overnight trip?”  
  
  
She snorts, before realizing he is actually expecting it to take some time. “Five minutes.”  
  
  
Ben stares at her, skeptical.  
  
  
“Jedi, remember?”  
  
  
He frowns. Then crosses his arms over his chest--clearly trying to be authoritative. “Meet me at the back gates in five minutes, then.”  
  
  
“We’re leaving this early?” It doesn’t matter to her, but for Ben--with all his conference holos and remote policy writing--it seems like it might interfere with his daily responsibilities.  
  
  
There is the slightest of uncomfortable expressions on his face. “I want to go before my grandmother notices.”  
  
  
“So that’s why you’re up early.” Rey narrows her eyes. “She’s going to panic if we’re both gone.”  
  
  
“I left a note.”  
  
  
Rey nods, satisfied. That’s all Kyp had needed, after all. “Where are we going?”  
  
  
Ben sends her a strange look that gradually softens. “You wanted to see Convergence.”  
  
  
The estate on the other side of the island. “Yes.”  
  
  
“Then we’re going. It takes a few hours to get there by walking, which we’ll have to do. We’ll return tomorrow night.”  
  
  
Rey holsters her lightsaber. “I’ll be right back.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Her robes are neatly folded on the end of her bed when Rey returns to her guest room. Hastily, she does a quick run in the refresher before changing into them. A soft tunic and leggings serve as her sleep wear, and for the return day she picks out one of the borrowed outfits from Padme. It is obviously Naboo in design, but the functional aspect of it is clear. The top is a warm brown, caught somewhere between a shawl and a tank, draping on the right side to look similar to a one-shouldered cape after a dark belt is wound over it. The trousers are the same shade, loose and comfortable.  
  
  
She packs the clothes, and her lightsaber, into her well-worn bag. Her eyes catch for a moment on the datapad resting on her nightstand. The one that Kyp has been sending daily messages to despite his promise of _weekly_ check-ins.  
  
  
Biting down on her lip, Rey makes a decision.  
  
  
She walks over, types quick notes to Finn and Kyp, then turns the device off and leaves it.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“What changed your mind?”  
  
  
Ben’s gaze drifts over his shoulder to her. “About?”  
  
  
“Taking me here.”  
  
  
“I never said I wouldn’t.”  
  
  
“But you didn’t seem to want to.”  
  
  
He scowls. The pair of them are walking through dense forest. In some places, there are old paths, covered in small foliage from disuse, and in others it is left as nature intended. Until, that is, Rey gently bends some vines and tall grasses to the side with the Force. She walks behind Ben, the pair of them making a short single-file line.  
  
  
“It’s personal,” he finally manages.  
  
  
Rey finds the comment...odd, to say the least. If there’s one thing on this mission that Ben has had no problem with, it’s the personal. “The estate or the reason why?”  
  
  
“Both,” he mutters lowly. In lieu of elaboration, Rey is caught off guard when a silver flask suddenly flies toward her head. It’s only out of well-trained instinct that she catches it. “Here.”  
  
  
She lowers her arm, undoing the top. “You’ve gotten better,” she states, before taking a deep drag of the water.  
  
  
“It’s easier. With you.”  
  
  
Rey watches his back, not sure what to make of the statement. “You’ve said that before.”  
  
  
“It was true before.”  
  
  
She wants to growl in frustration, because he picks the worst moments to be intentionally...obtuse. “But what do you mean by that?”  
  
  
His shoulders hunch up. Finally, he says it as a whisper. “Don’t you feel it, too?”  
  
  
Rey stares at his back. Her mind goes to the beach, to his hands cupping the blaster bolt between them. To that quiet, intense moment after he had said she was alone. No. Not alone, _lonely.  
  
  
_ “...Thanks,” she says softly, sending the flask to hover over Ben’s shoulder.  
  
  
After a moment, he grabs it, clearly frustrated.  
  
  
They walk in silence for a while.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
When the sun gets to be high, and Rey can’t stand the tension or the silence anymore, she plants her feet firmly into the ground.  
  
  
“Let’s take a break,” she declares.  
  
  
Ben turns. “Are you tired?”  
  
  
She snorts at that. Because, honestly. Tired? From a _walk_? “Not tired, bored.”  
  
  
He seems caught between annoyance and intrigue. The latter seems to win as he steps toward her. “What do you have in mind?”  
  
  
She didn’t have anything, if she’s honest. But Ben’s stare is expectant and so she suggests the first thing that comes into her head. “There’s a game we used to play when we were younglings.”  
  
  
“A game,” he echoes, in somewhat disbelief.  
  
  
She internally cringes at herself for suggesting it to a grown politician, but it’s too late now. Rey is committed. “Do you know what hide and seek is?”  
  
  
There’s that twitch of his eyes again. “Yes.”  
  
  
“It’s like that, but we used the Force.” She adjusts the strap of her back. “Someone hides and someone seeks, of course, but also the seeker tries to find the others with Force perception. Hiders try to mask their presence.” At his intensely skeptical look, she offers a small smile. “Could make the walk go faster? And it’s good training.”  
  
  
After a long moment, he sighs. “Anything’s better than silence.”  
  
  
In this, they are agreed.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
She’s being chased.  
  
  
Rey runs as fast as she can, arms and legs pumping as she jumps over fallen logs and dodges trees. Behind her, she can feel Ben’s presence gaining. She’d been found a few minutes ago, after two rounds of successfully seeking out Ben. He was a fast learner, she’d discovered, and Rey had underestimated his ability to find her presence in the forest this round-- slacking a bit in her mental shields.  
  
  
And now she was about to pay for it. Effortlessly, she navigates the terrain, swinging on the low-hanging branches for extra momentum as she sprints. Even though she wants to win (because of course she does), there’s a large smile on her face--a rare moment of being carefree and letting go of everything since Anakin’s death. Leaves slap against her bare arms and face, fine hairs sticking to the back of her neck as she runs faster.  
  
  
He’s not doing bad for someone with a desk job, she thinks. He’s more of a barreller in the forest than a dodger like Rey, but she feels him gaining on her slightly just as she hears some branches start to snap behind her.  
  
  
“You’ll have to do better than that!” She cries out happily, leaping over a small creek.  
  
  
Rey looks up, and sees some hanging vines in the distance. If she can grab them, and hurl herself up the tree, she’s pretty sure it’ll give her enough time to go back into stealth mode-  
  
  
-and Ben’s presence disappears in the Force.  
  
  
She stumbles a little at the shock of it.  
  
  
“That’s cheating,” she breathes out sourly, realizing that he’s masked his presence as the seeker. But smart, she could admit to herself.  
  
  
Rey runs forward a little more, hands reaching up for the vines-  
  
  
-and a heavy arm snakes around her stomach, bringing her back against a hard chest.  
  
  
The startled laugh escapes her lips at being caught, and her feet playfully kick out in an attempt to escape. But Ben’s hold is firm, and he falls against a tree behind them.  
  
  
“Alright, alright,” she concedes, “You won this round, you monster-”  
  
  
At first, she feels the deep vibrations against her back. Then the low, rich sound of a laugh behind her. It’s short, only a few seconds long, but it’s deep and unrestrained and Rey turns herself slowly around in shock.  
  
  
Ben’s face is completely transformed by his laugh. His smile is wide and toothy, eyes crinkled attractively at the corners. His dimples are deeply etched into the sides of his cheeks, brows lifted as he looks down at her. She’s held close enough that she has to rests her hands on his tunic, his arm still firm around her waist.  
  
  
She smiles quietly but earnestly at the overt happiness on his face, feeling something foreign but nice settle over her at his expression. She likes that laughter leaves his face slowly, that his smile takes a while to smooth out and the crinkles at his eyes remain. That when the sun hits his hair between the shadows of leaves its a warm brown instead of black.  
  
  
“Got you,” he says, his other arm coming around in something close to a hug.  
  
  
Rey looks up at him and grins. “Guess this means we have to go best out of five.”  
  
  
And so they do.  
  
  
She lets him win. It’s good for a teacher to encourage a student.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
By the time they reach the outer gates of the estate, the sun is starting to set and they’re both sore and tired. But the strange tension that had emerged after their conversation yesterday has dissolved somewhat, become a little more open and comfortable. That, to Rey, is worth a day of almost extensively running around in dirt.  
  
  
Convergence comes into view, and something about it is deeply unsettling to Rey. It’s of similar magnificence to Varykino, if not a little larger, but all of the windows are dark--most of them boarded, as well. It _feels_ abandoned, even though she knows there’s still a caretaking staff. It has rotund domes and towers, and beautiful stoneworked verandas-- but it’s as different from Padme’s childhood home as the night is to the day.  
  
  
Ben must sense it too, because there is a sudden unease about him. “This way,” he finally instructs.  
  
  
She follows him, until the pair of them reach a gate. She watches, as Ben punches in a code on a nearby security datapad and it crawls open.  
  
  
“I thought there was staff?” She asks.  
  
  
He doesn’t look at her. “They’re taking their vacation week.”  
  
  
“So just you and me?”  
  
  
A long silence.  
  
  
Rey sighs, shaking her head. “I suppose that’s for the best.” Ben looks at her sharply. “Less interference when mapping out the space.” She offers him a half-smile. “Plus we can work more on your training, if you’d like. And you’re not too tired.”  
  
  
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”  
  
  
“Alright, then.” The gate opens, revealing a wide, stone staircase that leads up to majestic doors. “Shall we?”  
  
  
Ben nods, stepping forward.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
The inside of the mansion speaks of fine tastes. Where there is not plush, finely fabricated carpets, there are hardwood floors in so many shades and grains Rey suspects they have to be important. Velvet drapes and curtains frame all the boarded windows, and large canvases of art line nearly every wall. Whoever had decorated this retreat had done so with care and attention, and if Rey were to guess, love. It was a home as well as an estate.  
  
  
Or, at least, it once was. Because the air is stale inside, there is light dust accumulating on the tops of frames and furniture, and all of the decorations seem decades out of date. There are no plants like at Varykino, nothing that requires regular upkeep.  
  
  
Ben touches a panel on the wall, and the darkened rooms illuminate. He turns to her. “Are you hungry?”  
  
  
“Always.”  
  


He pretends like he's not smiling. “Follow me, then. There should be some food stored in the kitchens.”  
  
  
They walk, their footfalls loud and disruptive of this strange monument. Rey finds herself pausing in front of a large portrait. It’s done in almost an impressionist style, like the official painter didn’t have enough time to blend the shades. It depicts an older man, perhaps in his sixties, with aristocratic features and waves of white hair flowing from a slightly receding hairline. His expression is neither kind nor cold, angry or happy. It’s neutral, and something about its calm makes her more uneasy than if he had been snarling.  
  
  
“Who is this?” She asks, pressing her fingers gently against the frame of the canvas.  
  
  
Ben turns, then frowns deeply when he sees what she is looking at. “Chancellor Sheev Palpatine.”  
  
  
Her eyes slide to his. She senses anger flickering around him.  
  
  
“He is the former owner of Convergence. The one who left the property to my grandmother.”  
  
  
“What happened to him?”  
  
  
Ben meets her stare, and there is definitely something dark and maybe pained in his eyes. “He was murdered.”  
  
  
Slowly, Rey retracts her fingers from the painting.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Dinner ends up being some old MREs and protein bars smuggled from a storage cellar. Rey greedily takes in their spread on the floor, as Ben hits another panel and the old fireplace bursts to life.  
  
  
“I’m sorry,” he grumbles.  
  
  
She looks up as he gets out of his crouch, coming to sit across from her. “For what?”  
  
  
He looks at the rations bars with disgust. “That.”  
  
  
Rey laughs, grabbing one of her favorite flavors (synthsteak), and tearing open the wrapper. “This is great.”  
  
  
“You can’t be serious.”  
  
  
She bites down hard on the leathery food, tearing it away with her teeth. “I am! This is what I have all the time on missions.” Rey smiles. “And no cutlery involved.” She points at another synthsteak bar. “Try that one, it’s the best.”  
  
  
He looks at her with absolute distrust, but he picks it up and slowly unwraps it. Sloooowly unwraps it.  
  
  
“It’s a protein bar, not a detonator.”  
  
  
Ben glares at her from over it, but takes a small bite. Immediately, he grimaces. “This is terrible.”  
  
  
She shrugs, closing her eyes in content. “You get used to it. Just stay away from the vegeflakes.”  
  
  
“Which ones are those?”  
  
  
“Green ones.”  
  
  
“Right. Of course.”  
  
  
But Ben’s body is clearly hungry enough to override his taste buds, because in moments the pile is demolished between the two of them. Rey lets out a happy sigh, patting her stomach as she stretches out her legs before her. Ben watches her, the shadows from the firelight making his features look softer somehow.  
  
  
After a few moments, his voice breaks the stillness of the room. “That was a useful activity.”  
  
  
She glances at him. “What was?”  
  
  
“The game.”  
  
  
Rey nods, a little wistfulness overcoming her. “We used to play it all the time when we were younglings. Much better than listening to Tionne’s guitar playing.”  
  
  
“The masking,” Ben prompts, “I’d like to try more of that.”  
  
  
Rey tilts her head at him. He is staring intently at her and it makes her somewhat uncomfortable. “Any particular reason?”  
  
  
“I’m in politics. Hiding thoughts will always be a benefit.”  
  
  
Rey immediately senses he’s lying. She pushes herself up, so she is on her knees and closer to him. “What’s the real reason?”  
  
  
Ben looks down. “I can’t tell you.”  
  
  
“Why not?”  
  
  
“I _can’t._ ” He spits out, and that old anger is back in his voice and Rey hates it so much. “If you don’t want to, just say that-”  
  
  
“Ben,” she cuts him off in frustration. “I’ll teach you. But don’t lie to me.”  
  
  
And then the memory returns to her. Of the visions, from when she was deciding if she should train Ben and entered a Jedi trance. Of the darkness that haunted him, the burning temple, and the cold thing in a robe of gold.  
  
  
Rey swallows. Because maybe he needs his secrets, right now. Maybe she’s supposed to help him from losing them. “...tell me you can’t answer, but don’t lie to me. Okay?”  
  
  
There’s a long silence. And his agreement is a quiet, earnest thing. “Okay.”  
  
  
Rey nods. “If...If you want to learn how to hide your thoughts, I can show you.”  
  
  
“Good. Let’s start-”  
  
  
“ _But,_ ” she emphasizes, meeting his gaze. “It can be. Violating. I might see things you don’t want me to see, know things you don’t want me to…”  
  
  
Ben watches her. And it is _relief,_ bright and burning that hits her senses.  
  
  
“Please,” he manages.  
  
  
Rey clears her throat, rolls back her shoulders. “Alright, if you want. But Ben…” She sighs. “If it gets to be too much, or too painful, _you have to let me know._ Understand?”  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
She sighs. And crosses her legs, elbows resting on her knees as she extends her hands out toward him, once again palms-up. “It will be like last time, then,” she explains, “But I’ll be more forceful, trying to go into your mind. It will be your job to cast me out.”  
  
  
Instead of letting his hands hover on hers, like they did the last time, he interlaces their fingers. It sends a jolt through her, like static, and her brows draw together.  
  
  
“I understand,” he affirms, voice sounding deeper.  
  
  
“Okay,” she breathes, feeling nervous. “Let’s start with the ocean.”  
  
  
Rey closes her eyes, surrenders her will to the Force. Across from her, she senses Ben do the same. Soon, there’s the same ocean, the same tides, the same beach. The storm is still there, although this time it’s just a billowing cloud in the distance.  
  
  
“Good,” Rey says, and Ben’s fingers flex against hers at the compliment. “Here is where it will get difficult. I’m going to try and go further into your mind. You have to try and cast me out.”  
  
  
“Any suggestions?”  
  
  
“Think of a fist, striking. That’s what I usually do. Otherwise, just try and find my presence, and cast the barrier around it like we did with the blaster bolt.”  
  
  
“Alright.”  
  
  
“Alright,” she echoes. “I’m starting. If it gets to be too much, just drop my hands.”  
  
  
“Fine.”  
  
  
Rey exhales. And she goes into the dark.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
At first, it feels like she’s falling. It’s lonesome and cold and endless, but after a moment she seems to find her mental footing. The Rey of her mind steps forward, and one of the visions from her trance reappears--but stronger, more in color. There are no blurs around the edges, because this one belongs to Ben’s mind.  
  
  
He is a child, holding onto a mechanical hand, and looking up as blocks levitate in the air. He tries to reach for one himself, to take a hold of the threads he feels in the air around him and move it closer. But the mechanical hand makes a stern noise--a shout, distorted by old memories and time--and the blocks fall all around him and the hand lets go of his.

  
“Push me out, Ben,” she reminds him. 

  
“I’m trying,” he snarls back.  
  
  
The scene cuts off abruptly, and now she sees him on the lap of a beautiful woman in white. She looks so much like Padme that Rey can only assume this is Ben’s mother. They are in the Senate chambers, the woman lifting her hand and Ben’s pudgy, baby arm mimicking the motion-  
  
  
-it cuts again. The woman has grey threaded in her brown hair, and she is telling him something, her eyes wet and red. To her side, there is a man with wavy brown hair and a permanently crooked sort of grin, and he looks so similar to Ben that she knows it must be his father. He, too, looks upset. His mouth is saying something without sound, and the next thing Rey knows she is feeling the crest of Ben’s emotions in this moment: betrayal, abandonment, regret, _pain_ -  
  
  
-he is underground, his power causing the building to collapse and he can’t breathe and there is only one, small crack of light filtering through the rubble that is suffocating him and he is going to die alone here and he is _frightened_ beyond all imagination of death, of what he can do, of who he might have hurt because he didn’t agree about something as insignificant as a legal bill, because _no one trusted him enough_ to train him before this-  
  
  
-Luke stands above him, and in his hand is a blaster-  
  
  
Rey feels the floor shake underneath where she’s sitting. There’s the sound of something falling and shattering in the distance. “Ben, _push me out_!”  
  
  
“I am!”  
  
  
She hears more things toppling over, more crashes and clattering.  
  
  
-it begins to play like a slow loop, as over and over again Ben watches people leave him, abandon him, distance themselves from him. Increasingly, he is invited to join less committees, be part of less community efforts. His mother decides to become a travelling diplomat and hardly ever comes to Naboo. His father goes on the run, smothered by Naboo and its politics and its secrets and his wife’s family. Luke flees to the mountains, to retire and live off the land. His grandfather-  
  
  
The trembling starts to stop. There is a definite, stronger _push_ back toward her presence.  
  
  
-she sees herself, through his eyes. Her single-minded concentration that fascinates him as she draws, the power and control she demonstrates in her training, the way that she smiles through _everything_ and how she reminds him of that one, beautiful light in the rubble that kept him from suffocating-  
  
  
Rey is abruptly thrown from Ben’s mind and her eyes open. The reaction she has to him, his thoughts and his memories, is intense and visceral and she feels like she can’t breathe because she is too busy drowning. Her fingers drop numbly from his.  
  
  
“Finally,” Ben says in exasperation. “Did that work?”  
  
  
She can’t answer him. Her hand goes to rest over her chest and it thuds harshly against her sternum.  
  
  
“Why are you…?” His question falls off, as his fingers reach out to brush against the newly formed tears on her cheek.  
  
  
She doesn’t know how to answer him, to tell him that she felt the agony of the memories even if she wasn’t able to see or understand them clearly. About how, sudden and painful, she felt the overwhelming _loneliness_ that had been his companion growing up almost as surely as it had been hers. That they share a secret in holding onto secrets, that deep down there was a darkness of grief that matches the one he holds close to his chest.  
  
  
Ben must see something in her expression that resonates with what she feels in her heart, because slowly his fingers become the whole of his hand, cradling her cheek.  
  
  
“You feel it too,” he manages. Then, softer, “That’s what this is.”  
  
  
Rey can’t find the words to formulate what it is that she wants to say, but there, the two of them sitting in front of a barely lit fire, she decides to make a promise. Rey brings her hand to the outside of Ben’s own, turning it slightly so she can gently press her lips to the seam of his palm. She keeps the contact, closing her eyes.  
  
  
“I _don’t_ leave people,” she says into his hand, with a ferocity that astounds them both.  
  
  
“Rey,” he breathes. The tips of his fingers slide into her hair.  
  
  
“I can’t…” The hand not holding onto his clenches tightly where it rests on top of her thigh. She...she sees _something_ there. Between them. A question he’s not asking, but wondering. Painfully wondering, as his thumb slides behind her ear. As she hears him lean forward. “Please, don’t.”  
  
  
At her request, he stills. Then waits.  
  
  
Rey lets in a shaking inhale. Continues to keep her eyes closed so she can’t see his expression.  
  
  
“Can we just stay like this?” She pleads.  
  
  
Because she is _affected_ by him, by his charcoals and his deep laugh and his stupid library and the way he held a blaster shot in front of his heart and exploded a fruit while trying to levitate it. Her heart beats faster, and kissing his hand was such a _stupid_ move and she feels like an idiot but at the same time she feels _him,_ like a ghost between all the atoms.  
  
  
She wants to protect him, to draw herself like the tide between the Ben who loves his grandmother and does calligraphy and that deep, dark, _angry_ thing writhing inside of him.  
  
  
She senses him lean forward and nono _no_ this isn’t something she can do, because she is a Jedi and there are oaths-  
  
  
Something soft presses against her temple. Warm. It lasts for a few, pleasant seconds before she slowly opens her eyes and Ben is leaning away. He’d kissed her. His eyes look wet in the firelight.  
  
  
“Yes,” Ben says, voice scratchy. The thumb behind her ear traces lightly down her neck, then up again.  “We can stay like this.”  
  
  
Rey gently brings his hand down, but doesn’t let it go. Then she shifts, turning her body so that she can sit next to him, rather than across from. He doesn’t move, back slightly hunched, as she places their conjoined fingers between them and rests her cheek against the side of his arm.  
  
  
They watch the flames together, neither of them saying a word. The floor underneath them is cracked, there are a few chandeliers in shattered piles on the ground.  
  
  
_You feel it too.  
  
  
_ His words echo in the silence between them, and once again Rey lets her eyes close.  
  
  
Because she does. It’s in the backbeats of his heart. In the quiet mornings on the balcony, on that late night on the beach.  
  
  
Balance.  
  
  
And she is so, so afraid of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _EU/Reference links_   
>  [Room of a Thousand Fountains](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Room_of_a_Thousand_Fountains/Legends)   
>  [Convergence](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Convergence_\(Naboo\))   
>  [Palpatine's portrait](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/b/bd/Supreme_Chancellor_Palpatine.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20150711202646)
> 
>  
> 
> _Clothes!_  
> [Ben's travel clothes](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c7/61/5c/c7615ce40b494b03df08e881ce1d84fc.jpg)  
> [Rey's Day 2 outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c1/b3/ed/c1b3ed7fb5499da833c40fd9d41b537e.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
>  _Other notes!_  
>  -I train in boxing and kickboxing, not fencing, so some of the drills might be off there as i pull from my own experience  
> -I screwed up on the geography a little in relation to Convergence and Varykino's distance PRETEND I GOT IT RIGHT :'|  
> -Sounds like there's an interest in the Ben+Padme stories! Leave me a note if there's a specific scene you want to see :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the well wishes as i was in recovery <3 <3 <3 easing myself back into this fic, i hope you enjoy it & it was worth the wait!
> 
> also there's ART now!!! amazing fanart linked in the bottom notes GO LOOK AT IT AND COMPLIMENT THEM <3

**ABY 29** **  
****  
** Swoop racing. Is. The  _ best.  _

Rey lets out a little scream as she pulls back the thrusters, hearing the engine tunktunk _ tunk  _ to a stop. Her hair is a complete mess, ruined from the high winds caused by the open-roofed racer, but her smile is wide and toothy and when she sees Finn, and their new friend Zekk, to the side she raises up an arm in victory and yells “YEAH!” as loud as she can.

Zekk, an orphan who lived in Coruscant’s Undercity making a living as a thief and salvager, is a naturally somber person. But even his slightly green-tinted face breaks into a little grin at her unbridled enthusiasm. Finn runs over to help her out of the swoop, playfully messing her hair further.

“First win,” Zekk says, little grin still in place as he awkwardly puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve improved.”

Rey doesn’t try to restrain her enthusiasm, her animated movements making hair fall in tendrils around her face-- the padawan braid discreetly tucked under her civilian vest. She looks up at Zekk, his warm and comfortably heavy hand on her, his sharp features and single earring and leather jacket and ponytail, and her cheeks feel warm. Probably from engine heat.

“Um, thanks. You too…”

Finn wraps an arm around her shoulders, oblivious to whatever... _ strangeness  _ Rey’s feeling as he presses her to his side. “Better get ready to defend your title, because I’m  _ in  _ next race.”

Rey laughs, hugging his side with affection. “You’re welcome to try, moon jockey.”

The three of them had formed a comfortable friendship ever since that night--the one where Rey had convinced Finn to play hookey with her. They had snuck out of the temple, and immediately gotten lost in the sprawl of Coruscant. A wrong turn into an alley, some Crimson Tide members, and a ventcrawler defending them later, and they had made fast friends with Zekk, the first non-Jedi friend for either of them. And while Rey was sure Zekk had some suspicions, he also didn’t know that they were Jedi. Not for sure, anyways. Rey wanted to keep it that way for as long as she could, even if she wasn’t able to put  _ why  _ into words.

Finally, Zekk’s hand withdraws. She feels a little less... _ weird. _

His grim face suddenly looks mischievous. “Since you won, I guess you can treat us all to drinks.”

Finn and Rey share co-conspiring looks. Neither have been to a cantina. And while drinking wasn’t banned by the Order, they certainly didn’t keep anything in the Temple that padawans could get to.

“Yes!” She decides immediately.

\--

Rey thinks she’s drunk. There isn’t anything to serve as a basis for comparison, but her stomach’s in knots and her arms are comfortable and heavy and for some reason she can’t quite feel her teeth. Finn is caught up in a conversation with some smugglers on the other side of the cantina, so it’s just her, Zekk, and her adolescent fascination with his pierced ears.

“Don’t drink much?” He guesses, eyebrows raised as he slowly slides Rey’s near-full cup away from her.

“Never,” she blurts. Then feels stupid about it. 

Zekk, for some reason, seems upset at the admission. “You should’ve told me. I wouldn’t have suggested-”

“I wanted to try!” It registers how loud she was, and her face burns as she lowers her voice down, almost shy. “I...I want to try a lot of things.”

The worry leeches from his face. Instead, he tilts his head. “Where are you from?”

Rey doesn’t know how to answer that. Her fingers twist into the fabric of her shirt--borrowed from a younger knight’s closet and far too big.  _ I’m a Jedi,  _ she thinks. But can’t bring herself to say. Because she  _ knows  _ her being a Jedi is going to change things with her friend. There’s no evidence for it, but rather it’s something she simply feels, carved into her bones.

“I’m from Jakku,” she doesn’t quite lie.

Rey watches as he tries to place the planet’s name, and ultimately fails.

“Sounds...nice,” he tries anyway. “I’m from Ennth, originally.”

“Never heard of it.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he hesitantly slides the tankard back to her. When her fingers brush over his, they’re warm and it sends a not-unpleasant knot back into her stomach. “We’re Coruscanti now, right?”

He doesn’t move his hand. His fingers rest over hers. Her heart thuds in its chest.

“Right,” she says.

The night goes on, and Zekk tells her stories about his first few years in the Undercity, but Rey doesn’t quite hear them. 

Instead, her eyes stay focused on the table, where he’s holding her hand. 

Before her and Finn begin to walk back to the Temple, Zekk awkwardly leans over the table and presses his lips to her cheek. 

“Congratulations for winning,” he says with bright-red ears while looking at the floor.

\--

Her hand’s still against her cheek when she walks into the Temple. And her thoughts are clearly distracted, listless, because it takes her a few minutes to realize that someone is waiting for her.

Finn had decided to stop by the kitchens before bed, and so Rey is alone when she walks to their room.

And sees Anakin standing outside it, arms crossed and face uncharacteristically grim.

Rey realizes how it must look--sneaking back in after hours, her padawan braid hidden and her worn civilian clothes smelling like cantina. Instantly, her hand drops to her side, face burning in embarrassment as she can’t meet his eyes.

“I…” She doesn’t know how to finish. She’s been caught red-handed, and now there’s only going to be a lecture-

“Rey.”

Her Master’s voice is so hoarse, so  _ sad,  _ that Rey has to look up. And this time she really  _ sees.  _ His eyes are bloodshot, his face grey and lips bloodless. His grey-white hair isn’t combed neatly, but touseled as if he’s run his hands through it hundreds of times. And...there is  _ pain.  _ So much of it, in the space between them.

This is not about Rey playing hookey, or getting drunk and having a boy kiss her.

“Anakin?” She asks, taking a hesitant half-step forward. “What is it?”

His eyes are wet, she realizes. And seeing Anakin crying seems so wrong. Like an object in need of repair--a coolant line leaking, or an ignition cylinder misfiring. Her hands itch to fix it, but all she can do is tug on the sleeve of his robe in silent question.

Her mentor breathes in, and it sounds like a rattle. Finally, he musters the words he came to say, the words that are going to make all her happiness at the pleasant evening go cold and dead:

“It’s Obi Wan.”

  
  


**34 ABY**

\--

The walk back to Varykino feels shorter than the one from it. And it’s not until Rey sees the green-capped rotunda emerging over the tops of the trees that she remembers there is a world outside of last night.

They’re walking close, arms occasionally brushing against one another. And Rey keeps glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes. There’s something different about Ben, about them. She can’t decide if she thinks it’s good or not.

Well, that’s not true. It’s clear that Ben is...calmer, for lack of a better word. His face is relaxed, the corners of his mouth twitching when he catches her stare. The heel of his palm connects with the heel of hers, not for the first time, but now he’s more daring. His pinkie moves past, and before Rey registers what’s happening, his fingers are laced between hers, his thumb running over her knuckles lazily.

It’s not the first time she’s held hands. There had been Zekk, a few times. And Finn. But this is different. It feels like she’s drawing nearer to a precipice that she won’t be able to come back from if she topples over.

Rey had promised him that she wouldn’t leave him. And that was true--it was too late to pretend it wasn’t. But she wondered if he realized that she--they--couldn’t-

“What is it?”

His voice breaks their silence, settles over her, and she realizes that her grip is far more lax than his. 

Rey swallows. “I…” 

Exhales. Because there’s not words, yet. She’ll have them later, she thinks. Once she has time to meditate on her own feelings that blend around her like a storm. Guilt, gnawing at the sides of her stomach. The comforting, warm weight in her hand. They go back and forth inside of her, a pendulum out of rhythm.

“I’ll need to think,” she settles on, as they walk under a set of opened gates and into the gardens of Varykino. When she takes a steadying breath, her mind can only focus on the smell of the flowers.

“About?” There’s an edge in the question, and the thumb over her knuckles stops moving.

Her booted feet come to a slow stop, and he turns mid-step to face her, not letting go of her hand. 

“You know the Code. I can’t…” she fumbles for the right wording, pointedly not looking at his expression. “I can’t be a…” 

She feels his stare on her, and she gives up trying to say what she thinks he wants from her.

“A what?” He presses, voice sounding deeper than before.

Rey’s eyes flicker up. He’s staring intently at her, his lips pressed together and chin slightly puckered. 

“I can’t be attached,” she finally settles on. 

She expects him to scowl, to yell at her, or to storm away. She does not expect him to merely sigh, and reach to grab something behind her head.

“You already know,” he begins, quiet and patient in a way she hasn’t heard from him before. He brushes his fingers behind the shell of her ear, into her hair, and Rey’s breath catches. “It’s too late for that.”

His hands drop from her hair and her fingers. “I had better see to grandmother.” He looks down at her, trying to read her expression. She has no idea what it is right now. “Meet me after midday?”

Not sure what else to do, she nods.

He gives a small smile, before he folds his hands behind his back and walks toward the estate.

Rey watches him go. Once he’s out of sight, she runs fingers through her hair in frustration. They pause when they feel something soft, foreign. Slowly, she tugs at it, and realizes that Ben has tucked a flower behind her ear.

She stares at the shining novabloom cupped in her palms, and wonders what she’s going to do.   
  
\--   


Midday meal is...odd. It’s the first time Rey’s seen Padme since their return, having spent the morning sequestered in her rooms in meditation. It hadn’t helped. 

Padme looks like the holo of repose. Her hair falls like a curtain around her shoulders, still thick and curly, parts of it braided in a thin crown around her head. She is dressed in a light, guazy dress with embroidered birds, and its color reminds Rey of the sky. 

And for some reason, she hasn’t acknowledged her grandson, who sits across from her with a scowl deeply embedded into his features.  
  
“Rey, could you pass me the darjean?” Padme asks politely, not looking up from the fruit she’s cutting into small, purposeful pieces.

Rey tries to locate it on the table, finally seeing it by Ben’s elbow. She briefly wonders why Padme doesn’t just ask him for it, but reaches across the table anyways. Rey passes it to Padme, who takes it with graceful fingers and immediately sets sit down without any further attention.

“Thank you,” she says. “And how has your morning been, Rey?”

There is definitely a tension in the air, although no one would be able to tell from looking at the older woman. Who looks alarmingly serene in a way that could put Master Yoda to shame.

Rey shoots Ben a glance, and he breaks his scowling at his grandmother long enough to give her a small shake of the head. 

“No?” She offers, a slight frown on her brow.

“Your morning was no?” Padme echoes, some amusement in her tone.

“Um, no. I mean. It was fine.”

“I trust your meditations went well,” Padme continues. Very politely. It’s all so very polite.

_ How did she know that?  _

“They’ve been better.” Because Rey only knows how to be honest and direct. She spears a piece of what looks like a cake and chews it happily. 

“You must still be tired from your walk,” Padme observes. She delicately eats a piece of her fruit. She hasn’t touched the darjean. “It’s quite a distance from here to Convergence.”

“Grandmother,” Ben cuts in, annoyed.

“The walk wasn’t bad.” 

“Any word from the Council?” 

“I...missed a few messages,” she admits.

Padme folds her hand in front of her mouth. Tilts her head. “Were communications down at the estate?”

For some reason, Rey’s starting to feel warm around the ears. “I didn’t bring my comm.”

Her brows raise, acknowledging Ben for the first time. “Ben forgot his as well. Were none of the servants available to assist you?”

“There weren’t any servants,” Rey clarifies.

Padme gives a thin smile after dabbing at her lips with a napkin. “I see. Well, it’s fortunate nothing dangerous happened.”

“ _ Grandmother. _ ”

“Time to return to work, I’m afraid. I’m sure you have your own duties to catch up on, Rey.” There is the slightest emphasis on the word  _ duties,  _ and Rey isn’t sure if she’s imagining it or not. “Ben, I have a motion I am drafting for the House of Commons. Your input would be appreciated.”

“I’m not-”

“Thank you, Ben.”

Padme leaves the room with soft steps and a gently closed door. Immediately, Rey pivots in her seat to more directly face Ben.

“What  _ was  _ that?”

Ben takes a long, measured exhale from his nose. “She’s upset.”

“It’s terrifying.”

“Yes.”

Rey looks down at the table. Absently drums her fingers on the table. “Maybe we should stop-”

“No.” Ben pushes out of his chair. He dabs at his lips with a cloth napkin while standing. “I’ll talk to her.”

Ben leaves the room with heavy stomps and a shoved open door. Rey leans back in her seat, staring at the ceiling. 

The Naberries were a complicated pair.

\--

For want of anything better to do after reading through Luke’s NSF reports and messages from the Order on her comm, Rey decides to put all of her strange, anxious energy into something productive. It’s not the first time. Often, while back at the temple, she had turned to engines and consoles while the rest of her cohort held meditation in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. No matter how long she lived in the temple, she had never been meant to sit  _ still.  _

And so she finds herself beginning to assassin-proof Ben’s library. She recalls his reaction to her plans, and decides to temper them somewhere in the middle. The natural light isn’t compromised, but all windows have motion sensors installed and upgraded. 

Rey is in the middle of tearing out some faulty wiring when she senses Ben’s presence approaching. A low sigh escapes from her teeth, as she absently pushes herself through her work. She needs-wants- _ space.  _ Some time to tear apart and piece together. Some time free from Ben and Padme and her comm so she can figure out what it is  _ she  _ means to do next.

It seems as though she isn’t going to get it, as the doors slide open and Ben’s heavy gait echoes across the polished flooring.

“What are you doing?” He calls up. And up.

Rey, suspended by a thin rappel from the ceiling, doesn’t look down. She keeps her gaze trained on the wires, soldering them together with her multi-kit, a pair of goggles protecting her eyes. 

“Renovating,” she states. Her words echo around the space as well.

Ben doesn’t say anything, but she can feel his frustration and... _ finnicky-ness  _ in the Force. His surface thoughts are loud and clear; unrestrained. He’s worried that she’s going to fall. That she’s avoiding him. That-

“I put a tarp over them,” she protests at the last thought. “The murals are fine.”

“You... _ tarped  _ the portrait of Enri Strikosis?” 

Rey continues her plasma-torching. “He won’t notice.” 

There’s a snort, as if he can’t decide if the comment was annoying or funny, and Rey smiles to herself before returning to the wires. After about five seconds, she hears Ben pacing up and down the hallway beneath her. Five seconds after that, she turns off the plasma torch, pushes up her goggles and  _ glares. _

“Stop it.”

Ben glares right back up at her. “Come down.”

“Why?”

“Because you can still talk to me.”

There’s something raw in his voice. She can’t make out the exact expression on his face, what with being about three stories suspended above him, but his feelings are loud in the Force.

Ben...is worried. About last night. This morning. Rey bites down on her lower lip. That unspoken question is still strong between them, his restraint in asking it a fraying thing. And she can’t guarantee anything. To go further is to break her vows. She learned that the hard way five years ago, when she was stumbling through her first crush. 

And this is...bigger. Than that. Or, it could be.

But she can’t pull away, she realizes. Because pulling away right now means the same thing as leaving, as abandonment to Ben. Which she promised she wouldn’t do. And so Rey takes a steadying breath, and puts the goggles back on.

“Give me five minutes.”

\--

They end up back in the gardens. The sun is starting to sink lower into the sky, indicating that midday is past and they’re heading into the later afternoon. It’s warm, pleasant on the skin her sleeveless, light green wrap-top exposes. She walks inline with Ben, allowing him to lead her further out from the estate’s building, near a small pond framed enticingly by shade-giving trees.

“Why would you ever leave here?” Rey asks, mostly to herself. “I don’t think there’s this much green anywhere else in the whole galaxy.”

Her preoccupation on the pond, and the small, jeweled birds that rest upon it, means she misses the softened look on Ben’s face as he stares at her.

“It’s...limited,” is all he offers.

Rey sends him a reproachful look, before shaking her head and walking closer to the water. It is less grand than the lake on the other side of the estate, with the shoreline being nothing more than densely packed, dark soil instead of sand. Still, because she can’t help herself, she undoes the clasps on her boots and rolls up the ends of her leggings until they’re just below the knee before wading in. The water is clear enough that she can see her toes through it, and Rey watches, entranced, as several minnows swim over them.

Ben, in his asymmetrical grey waistcoat and formal trousers, does not seem like he will be joining her childish exploration. When Rey looks over her shoulder to confirm, the sun hits him so the silver threads in his lilac undershirt are gleaming. His eyes look warm and amber.

Rey forgets what it was she was going to ask him.

And he clears his throat when he sees her expression. 

Their eyes meet.

“There’s leeches,” he instructs, before heading to sit underneath the tree nearest to the shoreline.

Rey watches him retreat, then turns to the clear water of the pond, the sun glinting over it in golden slivers of light.

Perhaps, she admits to herself quietly, it is too late for space.

\--

The afternoon passes comfortably, with Ben reading his tariff reports on his datapad as Rey discovers all the oddities and intricacies of the pond’s ecosystem (and, really, just enjoys an hour or so of thinking about nothing but the pond, the stillness of its surface and the beauty of its shoreline). At some point, she finds her way to Ben’s tree, collapsing in a rather undignified pile next to him, her legs still half-bare and wet from the water.

He adjusts when she does, giving her space to settle in.

Rey bends her knees, resting her elbows on top of them as she regards him with a face scrunched from the sun. “Anything interesting?”

“No.”

She smiles at that, then fumbles at the utility pouch on her hip. “Here,” she instructs, grabbing his nearest hand away from the datapad and depositing her find in his palm.

Ben looks down at where their hands are joined, and for a moment she wonders if he even sees her present for him at all.

“Rocks?” He finally manages.

“Pebbles,” she corrects. “For practice.” She takes her other hand and starts pointing at each of them, 10 altogether, all about the size of a pinkie nail. “Levitating these will take more focus than larger ones. I had a set like this when I was trying to build my lightsaber.”

They don’t match. And they’re not particularly pretty, most of them still coated in pond-silt. But he nods without any protest, folding his fingers slowly around them, until Rey’s hand is left hovering over his closed fist.

“Thank you.”

Rey blinks, feeling disarmed by the comment although she doesn’t know why. “You’d best practice with them,” she tries to say sternly. “Every day. And no blowing them up when you get frustrated.”

Ben nods, setting aside his datapad. Placing the pebbles on top of it. And there’s a long stretch of time, where Rey realizes that she’s close enough to him that their arms are brushing and she’s acutely aware that his hands are empty.

“Maybe we should head back in,” she whispers.

“Not yet,” he whispers back.

He shifts, so he is facing her side rather than next to it. Rey doesn’t move as his long fingers slide across the skin of her throat, anchoring themselves in the undone hair behind her ear. His thumb moves tortuously slow over the plane of her cheek and every nerve she has is heightened and electrified. Every ghost of a touch from him feels amplified, the light brush of his fingertips against the skin of her scalp sending shivers down the entire length of her spine.

“Please,” he begs softly. 

The word paralyzes her. There are thoughts--protests--trying to claim her mind, but Rey can’t find it in herself to think. Rationality is an intangible and artless thing compared to the heavy gentleness of Ben’s large hands, the feeling of her heart thudding against her chest--like it needs more air to keep moving.

Her fingers reach out of their own accord, lightly tracing a path up his neck. Her skin feels too rough for his, callused and worn from years of fighting and engineering and there’s a marvel in the contrast. The tip of her index finger traces a path from mark to mark on his neck, feeling his pulse under it and-

Ben cranes his head down, his nose brushing the side of her face.

“ _ Please, _ ” he asks again.

Rey closes her eyes. And as soon as she leans toward him, his lips find the corner of her mouth-- feather-light and hesitant. Rey exhales, and feels him remove his hand from her hair in favor of brushing his thumb along the edge of her jawline. His finger curls under her chin, and he angles her face. Closeclose _ closer. _

He presses his lips to the other corner of her mouth. And Rey gives up the attempt to center herself as she turns just a little and covers his lips with hers.

Ben freezes for a moment, but then he’s moving his hands until they’re both cupping her face, and he returns it.

Instantly, there’s a release. His lips are full and soft and warm and Rey revels in the rare sensations of them as she rests her palms on the tops of his thighs and leans into him. There is something clumsy about it at first, a choppiness in breathing and an unsureness of what to do next. But then something clicks, something  _ turns  _ and suddenly Ben is kissing her harder. His tongue brushes across her lips, and on instinct she parts them, deepening their connection. The hands on her face drop to her waist, and he lifts her to his lap as though she weighs nothing but air, her legs splayed out on either side of his hips.

She feels him bringing her closer, a hand on the back of her neck and another at the base of her spine. And Rey follows the motion, her hands smoothing up his chest and linking behind his neck-

The hard ground digging into Rey’s knees seems to fall away. Ben rests his forehead against hers. 

Rey blinks, attempts to pull back but his hands are anchors. “Ben-” she manages, not sure why it sounds as breathy as it does.

“Rey,” he moans softly into her neck, before he begins to press kisses down the column of her throat. His touch sends a jolt of pure electricity through her, only stopping when it finds some kind of grounding low in her stomach.

There’s the brush of a branch against the crown of her head.

Rey manages to pull back a little more at that, her eyes going wide. “Ben!”

“ _ What _ -”

“We’re-” she swallows hard when she feels just the slightly brush of his tongue along her pulse point--experimental. Quickly, Rey brings her hands between them, pushing lightly on his chest. Face and neck burning, she clears her throat and tries to find something calm in her. 

“Put us down.” She clears her throat, head swimming as she adds with some authority: “Now.” 

He seems to come to his senses at the words, attention diverting to their sides-

Where it becomes apparent that they’re floating, held in levitation about three feet from the ground.

She senses his panic just a split second before they both fall-- Ben’s back collapsing against the ground, and Rey collapsing on top of Ben. The rush of air from his lungs sends her hair up in a short poof from where its sprawled over his face. Her chin connects painfully with his shoulder, and she groans before letting herself flop on him. For a moment, they just lay there. His heart is still beating faster under her ear.

And then, once his lungs are capable of it, he laughs. That large, deep laugh from the forest-- the one that she knows crinkles his eyes and sends vibrations through her body as it emerges from his stomach.

Ben’s arms wrap tightly around her, pressing her flush against him in an embrace, and Rey can’t help but laugh, too. 

\--

By the time they return to Varykino’s halls, the sun is sinking below the horizon--staining everything a muted gold. There is a silent, mutual decision between the two of them not to discuss what happened by the pond, but they walk closer together.

Rey isn’t sure what comes next. She’s broken over a half dozen tenets of the Jedi Code in a week, and this one feels like a larger fall than the previous ones.

And Ben keeps smiling at her. Softly, just enough to be noticeable.

“I should...probably get back to security,” she manages, as they get closer to the main rooms.

Ben stops in his step, and she stops with him. As he looks down at her, she notices there’s a leaf in his hair and absently brushes it away. His expression goes softer at that.

“I…” he exhales, seemingly frustrated that he can’t get the words he wants to say out. He doesn’t even seem to know what he wants to say, if the toil in his mind is any indication. There’s a long pause, and he starts again. “I want us to-”

Ben sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I still have oaths,” she reminds him. And herself.

He frowns at that, just the slightest of furrows between his brows. “Does that matter?”

“You know it does.”

His jaw works. “Then we don’t tell anyone.”

Rey closes her eyes. “Ben-”

“Then,” he echoes with a stronger emphasis, stepping forward so he can frame her face in his hands. “We don’t tell anyone.”

“That won’t work with the Council,” she murmurs, looking up. "They'd find out eventually."

“You’d be surprised,” he mutters in a tone that makes her press her lips together in confusion. At her silence, his shoulders sag, and he rests his forehead against hers. “This means something to you too, doesn’t it?”

Rey doesn’t make a habit of lying. “Yes.”

“Then.” He swallows, a hint of desperation entering his words. “Give me time. Give  _ it  _ time.”

“Time only makes this sort of thing harder-”

“You’re an expert?”

Rey looks away. “...no. But. There have been others…”

Her doubts are cut off when he kisses her again. This time is less clumsy than the last, and it’s slower. The feel of it lingers when he pulls away and she lets out a short breath.

“We’re not like the others,” he says with a conviction that almost has her believing him. He is still so close--she can almost feel his lips form the words.

“Ben…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning for training.” He brings his forehead to hers again, and his thumbs stroke down from behind her ear to the middle of her neck. “Goodnight, Rey.”

There is clearly no more to be said, tonight. No more she  _ wants  _ to say. Not yet.

So she concedes.

“Goodnight,” she whispers.

He kisses her one more time, the briefest contact, before he walks toward the hall that holds his rooms. 

Rey watches him go, hugging her arms around herself, head spinning.

\--

Sleep is clearly going to elude her tonight, and every moment she tries to meditate brings her back to the tree-- her ears red and her heart pounding. 

So Rey does what she does best, and resumes tinkering. The acoustics of the library make her hesitant to do installation at the late hour, not wanting to wake her hosts (especially Padme, who she does not think she can ever look in the eye again), and so she heads to the last room she has left to detail.

The twins’ childhood quarters are joined by a shared sitting room. And it’s clear from the moment Rey steps through the threshold that they haven’t been occupied in a long, long time. The room is spotless, of course, but there is a frozen quality to it that makes Rey believe anything that was touched or cleaned was immediately moved back to its proper place. There are droid components scattered above a tiny workbench, a stack of datapads scattered all over a divan. While Rey is not a stranger to children--her time spent mentoring younglings at the temple a testament to that--there is something sadder in this archived room. It feels like a holo, frozen in place but never revisited. 

Rey is about to start installing motion sensors and trip alerts on the doorframes and windows, but something across the room catches her eye.

Frowning, Rey takes a few steps deeper into the room. The window has no curtains drawn, and so the moon provides enough illumination for her to catch the briefest flash of white across the playspace.

She walks closer to the small workbench, eyes fastened on an item on the shelving. With slightly shaking fingers, she grabs it and pulls it closer to her face for inspection.

In her hands is a model ship, one she absently recognizes as a T-16 Skyhopper. It isn’t white, she realizes, but battered and discolored--now a dull grey with several scoffmarks. Old-

_ -Anakin brings his hand up, pantomiming the model soaring in the air and dipping low underneath imaginary currents. There is something undeniably sad about it, something that makes Rey’s chest feel tight for reasons she can’t explain- _

The model clatters against the top of the bench. And Rey takes a few, slow steps out of the room before she turns and  _ runs. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Fanart!**
> 
>  
> 
>  _by selun-chen_ : 
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>  
> 
> [Rey & Ben on the beach aka The Pull](http://gizkasparadise.tumblr.com/post/172652576797/selun-chen-that-pull-i-might-have-read)
> 
>  
> 
> ["Please don't." or them getting cozy by the fire at Convergence](http://gizkasparadise.tumblr.com/post/172185585452/selun-chen-please-dont-and-we-continue-the)
> 
>  
> 
>  _by coraxenca_ :
> 
>  
> 
> [THE TIMELY scene of anakin playing with luke's model T-Skyhopper](http://gizkasparadise.tumblr.com/post/171737967087/coraxenca-rey-is-peeking-her-head-into-one-of)
> 
>  
> 
> [Rey and Ben playing tag on the way to convergence _adorable_](http://gizkasparadise.tumblr.com/post/170483154497/coraxenca-rey-runs-forward-a-little-more-hands)
> 
>  
> 
> [Rey defending Ben from _The Pear_](http://gizkasparadise.tumblr.com/post/170290688267/coraxenca-satellites-by-nymja-chapter-15)
> 
>  
> 
> \--  
>  **Notes & References**
> 
>  
> 
> [Swoop Racing](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Swoop_racing)  
> [Zekk](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Zekk)
> 
>  
> 
> [Ben's waistcoat](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279467626030/)  
> [Rey's shirt](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279468270485/)  
> [Padme's passive aggressive lunch dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279468214631/)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter to wrap-up part two! part three on your way ;) 
> 
> THANK YOU so much for your comments, kudos, reblogs, and kudos <3 I super appreciate it, and I'm sorry I've been behind in replying to comments. KNOW THAT I READ AND CHERISH EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM <3

**29 ABY**

When the heel of her hand connects with her eyes, it leaves them feeling raw and itchy. Her face is streaked with tears, the water of them collecting the dust from the air. The Enclave of Dantooine is far quieter than the Temple on Coruscant, the smaller Jedi facility the only thing for miles aside from endless plains. Anakin said Obi Wan’s last words, before succumbing to the illness in his chest, was that he be taken somewhere  _ quiet,  _ for goodness’ sake.

Anakin has fulfilled his Master’s last request well. The only noise is the slow crackle of the pyre in front of them.

Rey knows she is meant to be stoic, a calm example to the younglings who are starting to shyly gather around the funeral of the great Grand Master Obi Wan Kenobi. But she can’t. Her eyes are burning, and her nose won’t stop sniffling. She keeps  _ rubbing:  _ with her sleeve, her hand, her arm. Grief won’t leave her skin easily.

Anakin stands to her side. The pair of them wear matching robes--the regular beige ones with the brown overrobe that Obi Wan favored even after being appointed leader of the Order. After a moment, Anakin’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder. When Rey lets out another sob, he moves it to the side of her arm, bringing her in closer for a full hug. Rey wraps her arms around him, burying her face into his robes.

“It’s not  _ fair, _ ” she mutters against Anakin. 

“I know,” he whispers into her hair.

She senses the disapproval from the other Masters as they all stand witness to the burning pyre of Obi Wan. It’s directed at her, at her Master. And it just makes her so  _ angry--  _ that they pretend sorrow and grief and pain are things that can burn away like a body. Because it’s  _ not true.  _ She knows it’s not true more than anyone. Because Rey is the girl who waited. The youngling who would always be hungry, the padawan who would never leave anyone behind. She’s the Jedi who could never,  _ ever  _ remove her feelings from her life. Her chest has, and will always, beat with the heart of a ronto.

She looks up enough from Anakin’s hold to make direct eye contact with Master Phasma, the main source of the judgment, the derision. Their eyes meet across the flames in the circle they form. 

She and Anakin don’t move until the light of day breaks over the Dantooine grass.

Silently, Rey vows she will miss Obi Wan forever.   


 

**34 ABY** **  
** She forces open the doors without thinking about it, chest heaving from her sprint down the hall. Rey’s throat is dry, blood pounding in her ears.

_ Search your feelings,  _ a voice tells her in the back of her mind. But that voice can kark right off. She hasn’t the time for it. 

Rey senses him as she storms past the sitting area of his quarters, the calligraphy desk in mid-hover, strewn about with parchment and ink as though he’s been working on something. The next set of doors blow open with a wave of her hand, her shoulders squared as she marches in.

In his personal room, Ben lays in the middle of his ornate bed, long body sprayed out diagonally in an outstretch of limbs-- as though he’s never had to share space before. Moonlight from a window streams in and rests on his back, which is bare and pale in the darkness of the room, splattered with small, dark moles like the paintings she’s not allowed to tarp up. His face is soft, serene even, as he sleeps. Full lips slightly parted-

Rey shoves him out of bed with her mind. He topples over the side with a grunted, strangled noise of shock.

“Why do you have the toy?!”  She demands with bared teeth.

He blinks, groggily looking at the bed he’s been forcibly vacated from, to the covers around his legs, then her. “What?”

“The  _ toy,  _ Ben. The Skyhopper!”

“... _ what _ ?”

She glares down at him, face set in a scowl. “In the twins’ rooms, I found the Skyhopper.” She feels her nostrils flare as she takes a ragged inhale. “That’s not  _ yours _ .”

Ben pushes himself into a seat, covers pooled in his lap. He’s pink-eared, as though embarrassed at having been caught half-naked by an irate Jedi Knight.

“Use your words,” he grumbles, looking away and failing to discreetly pull the sheets up to his chin.

Rey’s heart is pounding a thousand light years a parsec, her mind unable to focus on anything but the memory of Anakin on Coruscant, gliding the Skyhopper in front of the viewport. There is no possible way he would give that to someone else. Not even as good of a friend as Padme-

She drops into a kneeling position, straddling either side of his hips, his legs still sprawled out from his fall, face less than an inch from his. She crosses her arms, and angrily bites down on her lower lip. Ben’s gaze flickers down to her mouth, the hands still holding the sheets underneath his chin clenching.

“I want to ask you something,” she manages after a second of internal battle.

“Whatever you want.” He sounds slightly breathy. She must have knocked him down to the floor too hard. 

Her pulse is in her ears. Rey’s eyes search his, and she’s not sure what she wants to find in them. Her brain conjures up images of novablooms, wrapping around a trellis. Of an old woman sobbing by her Master’s deathbed with as much pain as Rey felt. Of Luke’s portrait among all the others, a streak of blond and blue eyes that reminds her far too much of someone else, if she could pretend he had been anything but  _ old  _ once.

She doesn’t notice Ben’s hands letting go of their grip on the sheet, doesn’t realize he’s leaning toward her-

“Tell me about your grandfather.”

Ben halts. The hand about to rest on the top of her thigh falling numbly to his side. “What?”

Rey’s gaze flickers up. “What was his name?”

“Rey-”

“ _ What was his name _ ?”

He looks at her, at her fingers curled up into fists, her nostrils flared, her jaw clenched. And something hardens about his expression. In the span of a second, Ben is no longer the man who tucked a flower into her hair, but the angry politician snarling at her from the tarmac.

Rey closes her eyes--mind conjuring up memory after memory.  
__  
_ “So he’s dead?” _ __  
__  
_ “Did you know him?” _ _  
_ __ “No. I didn’t want to know him.”

_ “If you had to choose the Council or your Master, which would it be?” _

_ “I’ll tell you what I know about Anakin Skywalker. And you will want to know what I do. I promise.” _

**_So he’s dead._ ** _  
_

“You already know his name,” Ben says darkly.

Rey clenches her hands tighter. And before she can make rational sense of what she’s doing, her body is moving of its own accord. At some point, it opens its eyes, stands, and takes itself out of his room without another word.

He doesn’t follow. And her mind is too numb to comprehend the sound of something being broken-or thrown- behind her.

\--

Before she’s cognizant of stopping, Rey finds herself on the rotunda’s balcony. The same place where that one poet had been kidnapped, and Ben’s grandparents-

Where  _ Anakin  _ had gotten married. 

She looks out at the horizon from where she’s once again found herself on the balcony. Her knee is drawn to her chest, tucked underneath her chin. Her other leg dangles below her, barefoot and numb. 

Rey hears her breath hitch, her eyes sting. Before she knows it, she’s crying. Big, ugly sobs that make her back heave up and halfway down and up again--unable to get all the air she needs.

_ Anakin had a family this whole time _ .

Now that she knows, she can’t believe she’s missed it. The mysterious missions she was never allowed to go on. The strange holos in the middle of the night. How he’d always pick up model ships or hair ornaments on their travels. Souvenirs for people she was never supposed to know.

For the first time in a long, long while, Rey thinks of her parents. She can’t even remember her mother anymore.

She’d been so young, barefoot in the sand as her  _ buir  _ gambled her boots on a pazaak game in order to buy another round of Tarisian ale. Rey--named after the Mando’a word for a new fate-- had been his good luck charm. The memories she has of her father, as few and far between as they are, are of his hands around her shins as she rides on his shoulders. The heavy snores of him in a deep sleep. His angry screams when they’d meet other Mandalorians as they travelled through the port. They’d spit on him and curse him. They’d call him  _ chakaar:  _ thief, scum, criminal. Scavenger.

Rey has far more memories of Anakin. Better memories.

And so this is worse than being left in the sand. This is betrayal and abandonment all over again. This is Rey discovering the bright place in her life has been a lie, all along.

That she’s an idiot, for believing in the first place.

Something curdles in her stomach at that. Something dark and twisted and  _ hurt.  _ Because out of the entire universe, Anakin was the one she loved the most-

“He thought you would love it here,” comes a soft voice to Rey’s side, causing her breath to hitch again--this time in surprise. 

Padme looks bright-eyed, despite the hour. Her hair hangs down her shoulders and back like moonlight hitting the tides--silver and rippling. Padme’s hands are folded neatly in front of her stomach, the billowed sleeves of her lavender nightgown catching the minimal light with their golden bands that cinched the wrists. Even dressed for sleep, Padme is grace and beauty.

And Anakin had loved her.

Rey swallows, vigorously trying to remove the evidence of crying even though, for some reason, she only starts crying harder.

Padme steps forward, and gently steers Rey from the balcony. She slips off the banister and into the older woman’s embrace. And Rey can only worry about how she’s likely ruining the fabric of her fine night dress with her snotty, watery face as Padme presses her closer and runs her hands in slow circles against her back.

“He wanted to bring you,” she whispers after a moment. “Every time he came home he mentioned it.”

Rey’s eyes, already swollen, slam together as she presses her cheek into Padme’s gown like a child and not a full-fledged Jedi Knight.  _ Home.  _ This was Anakin’s real one. Not the temple, not-

“Why didn’t he?”

Padme is quiet for a moment. Not because she’s about to lie, but because she wants to be delicate in her answer. Rey feels her concern, her light, in the Force--as bright as Anakin’s in some ways, but different. Steadier. Her Master had been a flaring nova, his wife (his  _ wife _ ) more like the glowing crystals in Theed’s skies--the ones that lit up the paths for travelers.

“He thought it would make it harder for you, during your training,” she says honestly. “The plan…” and she sighs. “He didn’t want to jeopardize your place in the Order, Rey.”

Rey’s whole body seems to shudder. A Jedi. He had wanted her to become a Jedi. To take her vows as a Knight. 

“...who else knew?” She asks quietly, desperately. Who else knew when Rey didn’t?

“Obi Wan,” Padme states. “Perhaps Master Yoda, though we’ve never told him. But no one else alive, save for our family.”

_ Family.  _ The word’s a knife.

Rey’s sobs have subsided into sniffles, but pain is still a palpable thing in her chest. And she’s a child again. She feels the hot sand between her toes, the wind stinging her cheeks as she cries after a ship that’s not ever going to return. She feels completely, utterly  _ alone. _

“He loved you, Rey,” Padme says with utter conviction. “None of that was a lie.”

Rey doesn’t know how to answer her. So she holds onto Padme tighter, feels the woman (his _ wife,  _ his  _ family _ ) card her elegant fingers through Rey’s wind-snarled hair. 

They stand like that, for awhile.

Rey feels the warm weight of Padme's hands on her back, and her body feels hollow.

\--

Padme insists on walking her back to her guest quarters for rest. Rey already knows she won’t find it, but she’s too exhausted to protest.

And right outside her door, Ben is there. He crouches, half-slumped as though he’s been there awhile. His eyes are trained on the ground and his hands are folded behind his head. He looks drained.

As soon as they approach, his head snaps up.

“Rey-” He begins, ignoring his grandmother.

“Go to bed, Ben,” Padme interjects sternly.

Rey stares down at him, her eyes red-rimmed. She doesn’t know what to do or say. All she wants, in this moment, is to be back at the temple. To hear Obi Wan scolding her for missing meditations, or Anakin’s strange hum as he fixes a capacitor. To have her padawan braid resting on her shoulder.

He looks up at her, hair messy and falling into his eyes. “Rey, I-”

“ _ Bed, _ ” Padme states, her brown eyes trained on her grandson. She takes a step forward, and crouches down next to him. Her hands take one of his, drowned within it, and she speaks in a low voice that Rey knows she isn’t supposed to hear. “Whatever it is between you, it’s time to end it.”

Ben swallows hard, and he opens his mouth to speak, but Padme is faster.

“You know I cannot approve. Neither will the Council.” Her voice goes softer. “Neither would Anakin.”

The statement is like a slap. Rey takes a half step back. This is all  _ too much.  _ And her stomach twists again, into that hungry and angry thing and she forces out a slow breath. For tonight, at least, she can make a decision. And that’s the decision to not decide. 

“Goodnight,” she says with a shaking voice, striding past the Naberries to the console for her quarters. Her fingers key it open, and she steps across the threshold.

“Rey.”

She turns around at Ben’s voice. He’s still in his crouch, face drawn. 

Afraid, she realizes. He’s afraid of her leaving.

Rey swallows. She can’t do that to him. She  _ can’t. _

His chin quivers, just a little.

“Goodnight,” she says again, softer this time. She tries her best to nod, but it must fall flat because his shoulders slump.

The doors slide close. Ben’s dejected expression stays in her mind long after the sun rises. 

\--

At some point Rey’s body surrenders to sleep. And she is woken by the unmistakable sound of a hyperdrive engine powering down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I have a spotify playlist for this fic now!](https://open.spotify.com/user/nymja/playlist/3lBglUkg80KZTwbuoRGd5O) I'm likely going to be adding songs as The Mood fits me / the story's tone shifts, so think of it like a living music library :P PLEASE REC ME SONGS FOR THE FIC IF YOU HAVE RECS :D i love new music
> 
>  
> 
> [Padme's nightgown is inspired by this concept art](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279470168845/)
> 
>  
> 
> I headcanon that Rey's parents are displaced Mandalorians, likely criminals that dishonored their clan. Buir means parent, and can serve for either father or mother. Rey's name in this fic comes from the Mando'a word _riye_ (Ree-yay), meaning a fresh start / good turn of fate
> 
> PART THREE UP NEXT. and the true hero of the story returns ;)


	18. part three: earthshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well it's been a billion years, but it's good to be back! bear with me as i work through the rust on this one.

**Part three: Earthshine**

**\--**

**ABY 29**

Her boots make sharp  _ snaps  _ on the ground as the slight heel connects with the grated flooring of the Undercity, her heart thumping in her ears as she moves forward. There are always people out in Coruscant, but at this hour--that bridge between day and night--there aren’t as many walking around. And so the ones to the sides of the street are regulars, and they send her looks. Some wary, most predatory. Even though she’s feeling frantic, and maybe a little foolish, she knows enough to nudge the latter with the Force. 

_ I’m no one,  _ she thinks at them. Quickly, they believe it.

It’s been a little more than a month since Dantooine and Obi Wan’s pyre. And logically, Rey knows that if she were to turn around  _ right now  _ and head back to the temple, it would be fine. She’d be able to fix engines. Get a hug from Finn. But at the time, she’s full of teenage rebellion and anger that isn’t fully onto the next stage of grief. 

She’s tired of the temple, and how people are going on as if Obi Wan hadn’t  _ just died.  _ Like the Room of One Thousand Fountains was the same as it had been before, or the archives, or…

Rey was tired of people talking to her like she was the one in the wrong. She isn’t--she knows she isn’t. Rey’s just the only one who’s being honest in the face of loss. Who goes looking for him in the gardens, or mentions him during lessons. She’s the only one that still talks about him like he meant something, since Anakin’s gone off planet and hasn’t returned for nearly three weeks. She’s…

She’s the only one bothering to remember him. And that’s not fair. None of it’s fair. 

Because Anakin just  _ left.  _

Rey bites down hard on her lower lip, squares her shoulders, and keeps moving through the Undercity. She has a destination in mind.

He’s never told her where he lives, but through the Force Rey knows where to turn. Where to duck into the darker areas of the alleys. Who to avoid, when to hold her bag of meager belongings close to her chest. She’s always had a concerning knack for weaving her way into other people’s minds and memories. Zekk isn’t different. His old steps become hers, and she moves in them like a thief.

She finds herself stopping in front of an old garage. She’s never been here before, but she knows this is it-- a salvage yard is to the side of it, and the Force is emitting that slow, steady hum that’s come to associate with her friend. Rey pauses as she stares at the door, fingers digging tightly into the strap over her shoulder. This is it, if she does it. Because she knows Zekk would help her. Maybe he’d even come with her. They could become pirates or bounty hunters or professional swoop racers. 

Guiltily, Finn’s face comes to mind. 

She’d really miss him. And Anakin. Maybe, later, she could hold them ransom or something under her new terrifying pirate regime.

For a moment, she feels regret-

-but Rey storms forward before she can rationalize herself out of her grand escape. Impatiently, she slams the side of her fist against the door. 

“Oy!” She yells out, “Zekk!”

The door slides open.   
An old man looks down at her. 

And Rey, sheltered as she is, doesn’t understand the picture she makes: a young girl, flushed from running, demanding to see an older boy in the middle of the night. And so she misses the amused look of the old man and just sticks her chin out.

“Where’s Zekk?”

The old man, whose mechanic’s jumpsuit reads “PECKHUM” in aurabesh, scratches the underside of his jaw. “Who’re you?”

“I’m-”

“Rey?” Comes a groggy voice behind the old man. Peckhum slides to the side of the door, revealing Zekk behind him. His ong, black hair disheveled and free of its custom ponytail. He blinks at her, wide-eyed. The teenager looks at his guardian, and the latter eventually snorts and dismisses himself.

Ears growing a slightly darker green, Zekk coughs. “What are you doing here?”

Rey swallows. Plants her feet shoulder’s width apart. 

“I need a ride off the planet.”

Zekk blinks. “What?”

She suddenly feels nervous, but does her best to hide it when she meets his eyes and says: 

“I’m running away.”

\--  
**ABY 34** **  
** \--

Rey keeps her presence masked in the Force. It’s late out, or early, and she doesn’t recognize the newcomer. She only senses one--the signature similar to ones she’s felt on bandits or scoundrels. While it lacks the cold feeling of an assassin, Rey wouldn’t be surprised if he was a pirate out to kidnap Padme, Ben, or both. 

In a way, the intruder is a relief. She’s able to switch Rey off and the Jedi Knight on--years of training and experience taking the place of her mixed-up and volatile emotions as she tunes out everything but her mission to protect the Naberries.

Her boots are silent on the polished marble, and she skulks around pillars and railings until she’s closer to the landing pad. Her nose wrinkles when she sees the ship that’s docked: a busted Corellian freighter, no doubt barely serviceable. Whoever this kidnapper is, he’s not a particularly successful one. 

Quietly, she reaches over her shoulder and withdraws her lightsaber from its holster. She creeps further toward the threshold between the ship’s landing and Varykino. Rey crouches down, ready to strike, as she hears heavy footsteps and heavy sighing come from the other side of the wall.

The shadow of a man flickers into being as he approaches closer. Rey lets out a quiet exhale, and jumps-

The man’s a little tall for a pirate, and so the handle of her disengaged lightsaber clips the back of his head instead of a full-fledged knockout hit like she intended. 

“OW!” Yells the intruder. “Son of a-!”

Rey’s eyes go wide. 

The intruder pivots, points a finger down at her in a condescending way. “What in the twelve star systems was  _ that,  _ you sand rat?”

How did he know? she thinks, before she rolls back her shoulders and puts on her Best Jedi Voice: “State your business,  _ pirate _ .”

_ “Pirate?”  _ He scoffs in disbelief.

She nods seriously. Pirate.

“I live here!” He shoots back, rubbing his head. Then clears his throat. “Sometimes.” Scratches the side of his neck. “When I feel like it.” 

“Which is never,” comes a cool voice. 

Making sure her attention is still fixed on the old (he was a little old for an assailant, wasn’t he?) pirate, Rey looks over his shoulder. A much shorter woman stands behind him, wearing a rumpled flightsuit and a crown braid of grey-and-brown hair. Rey frowns, she hadn’t sensed her-?

“We weren’t trying to make a fuss,” she says with a wry grin, as though Rey’s confusion was voiced aloud. The woman crosses her arms. “As amusing as this has been, I think we’d better keep most of his skull intact.”

“ _ Thank you _ ,  _ your worship, _ ” huffs her companion, smoothing his disheveled hair into a different disheveled style.

Rey senses no ill will from the two of them, but she keeps her grip on her lightsaber firm as she takes a cautious step back. Her eyes dart from the tall man ( _ very  _ tall) to the woman. They stay on the woman, as slowly, Rey begins to feel her signature in the Force. It’s bright, impossibly so. And it feels like a-

“Nova,” she whispers. 

“Hm?” The woman asks.

Rey shakes her head, falling quiet. The woman’s a nova. Just like...just like Anakin. 

Rey looks at the old pirate again.  _ Really  _ looks at him. And she sees a nose, lips, and ears that have been borrowed by someone else. Her eyes slide to the woman. And she knows the warm brown of her stare.

She clears her throat, her cheeks burning. After a moment, she offers a bow as Obi Wan had trained her. 

“Welcome home, Leia Naberrie,” she addresses as respectfully as she can. “And...companion.”

“There’s no need for that,” Leia chides the same time her husband (?) barks out a “ _ Companion _ ?”

Rey can’t meet the eyes of Ben’s mother. Padme’s daughter.  _ Anakin’s  _ daughter. She’s found herself in a strange nexus of relations that she can’t begin to untangle. 

“I’m a Jedi Knight,” she settles on.

“Rey,” Leia greets cordially. 

She startles, looking up from her bow in surprise.

Leia gives her a wink. “We’ve all seen the holos.” She tilts her head. “I trust you know about the dad thing?”

Stunned, Rey only gives a small nod.

“Good,” Leia sighs, looking up. Rey follows her gaze, seeing a few lights in the estate flickering on behind them. “Guess they know we’re here.”

Rey bites down on her lip. The man sends her a sour look as he pointedly rubs the back of his head again.

The woman sends the pirate a glance. “I’d better go see to mom. Check in on Ben?”

He gives a non-committal grunt. 

Rey goes to escort Leia, when-

“Hey! Kid!” 

Rey clenches her jaw, but turns around.

The man juts a thumb behind him, to the pile of garbage they arrived in. “Luke’s in the engine room. Why don’t you help him out, and we’ll call it even on my skull.”

“I didn’t hit you that hard.”

His lips part, just a little. He sends a look over Rey’s head, where she suspects Leia is entering the house. Then he takes a step closer, bending down so he’s near enough to whisper.

“I’m doing you a  _ favor,  _ you know.”

“By giving me salvage work?”

“That ship made the Kessel Run...you know what, nevermind.” He exhales between the lower row of his teeth. “Look, take it from an older hat in the game: Naberrie family reunions are a headache and a half. And there’s about to be two of the most hot-headed ones in a room together. You want front row seats to that?”

Rey thinks of the revelation earlier this evening. Of leaving Ben, crouched down in the hallway. Of Padme clearly saying she did not approve.

Slowly, she shakes her head.

The man nods, almost approvingly. “Good, you’re smart. You never know with that mumbojumbo cult-”

“You mean the Order?”

“-here, take my hydrospanner and fix the coolant line. And protip for dealing with the Naberries, kid…”

Rey meets his eyes, intent.

He lifts up a finger again. “Always-” shakes it at her once, “- _ always  _ hide in the garage.”

He drops an old, warped hydrospanner in her hands and storms off.

\--

After a moment, Rey turns when she feels eyes on her back. Looks up.

Ben stares down at her from a balcony-- _ their  _ balcony. He’s too high up for either of them to say anything to each other, but Rey knows he’s seen the entire exchange. The distance makes it impossible to determine his expression, but for a moment the two of them just stare at each other’s small forms.

Then, Ben pushes away from the railing and walks back inside. 

Rey swears she hears the echo of the door after it slides closed.

\--

“Jedi Knight Rey!” Trills an all-too familiar voice the second Rey walks up the gangway. “Oh, it’s simply been  _ ages _ -”

Rey walks into the freighter and absently gives Threepio a clap on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“Stop talking to the droid and get down here!” Comes a distant growl. 

Rey sends Threepio an apologetic look and takes a few steps further into the ship. The freighter is a  _ noisy  _ thing, all chirps and beeps and flashing warning signs-

“Finally,” Luke exhales. Rey looks down.

He’s standing in a small engine chamber underneath the floor paneling. And he’s up to his thighs in noxious, green fluid. It stains his white-purple outfit more fit for a diplomatic journey, and the heat from the chamber has plastered his hair to his face, his neck. Luke glares up at her like a drowning lothcat.

Rey can’t help it. She smirks.

“Ha ha,” Luke says dryly. “Get down here and do something about this mess.” 

Rey grabs the ladder and effortlessly slides down. The fluid is  _ freezing,  _ no doubt some residue from the coolant, and sloshes over her half-calf high boots. Foul. 

“How did this even happen?” She yells, as another warning light and siren go off.

“ _ Han _ ,” Luke spits like a curse. “I swear he sabotages these things everytime we go to Naboo-”

“Here, move over-”

“Hand me the, no not  _ that- _ ”

“- _ That  _ works  _ better _ -”

“-if you’re a drunk ewok, maybe-”

“Just watch!”

“...huh.”

“I  _ told  _ you-”

“Well, we still got about nine fried wires, your esteemed Jedi-ness-”

“Master Luke, Knight Rey! I must  _ insist  _ we call for a professional-”

In unison: “ **_We’re not hiring anyone!_ ** ”

Threepio’s head leans back, affronted. “ _ Sirs- _ ”

Working next to Luke isn’t quite the same as working with Anakin. There’s more shouting, more friction. Fixing something with Anakin had been a well-oiled machine, this was trying to get a sputtering ion engine to stop from exploding. But both do the same thing: for just a moment, Rey forgets about Ben and Anakin and their secrets and their closed doors and the mess of tangled feelings they’ve both left in her, and instead she’s able to shut the universe out for a little while in favor of circuit boards, soaked boots, and neurotic commentary from a protocol droid.

\--

By the time Rey crawls out of the engine chamber, she’s covered in green ooze and carbon score stains, and the sky is the healthy orange-pink of sunrise beyond the viewport. She crouches down and extends an arm, pulling Luke up behind her.

“ _ Han, _ ” he grumbles.

“Han,” Rey agrees. She now knows that’s the name of the pirate she almost concussed. Ben’s father. 

Luke sends her a cagey look from under his thick, grey brows. “You’re not a half-bad mechanic for a Jedi.”

She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, not thinking as a smear of green crosses its expanse. “My master and I used to do work on busted transports all the time-”

He doesn’t say anything, but the silence between them has changed.

Rey lets the sentence fall away without an ending, her hand falling numbly into her lap. Her crouch shifts into a seat.

Luke lets out a little huff as he adjusts, his legs dangling off the edge of the chamber. “Guess that one’s out in the open, huh?”

Somehow, talking to Luke is different than talking to Padme. Or Ben. 

“I feel like an idiot,” she manages.

Luke just shrugs,”You’re young.” There’s a hint of something playful at the corner of his mouth. “You’re supposed to be an idiot.

She glares. “Thanks.”

He gives a light, breathy exhale at that. If it were anyone else, Rey might think it was a laugh. “Yeah, well. Don’t mention it.”

They sit in silence for awhile, Rey absently scraping char and goo out from under her fingernails as Luke does the same with his beard. 

“I don’t know what to do about it,” she finally says. 

Luke pulls out part of a frayed wire from under his chin. “Why would you need to do anything?”

Her ears feel like they’re burning, and a spot of the floor is suddenly fascinating.

He gives out a groan. “Really?  _ Ben _ ?”

Rey’s gaze snaps out, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean,  _ Ben _ ?”

“I love my nephew, but he’s so…” Luke rolls his wrist. “Bitter.”

“That’s a ronto meets a rancor, isn’t it?”

He snorts. “Point taken.” 

Threepio clanks over, a serving tray in his hand. Slowly, he bends down so Luke and Rey can reach its contents. “You’ve fixed the coolant line? How resourceful! Madame Amidala will be  _ so  _ pleased to know you can join her for breakfast-”

Luke and Rey meet each other’s gazes, as they both slooowly take a sip of tea.

“-and, Master Luke, Master Han would like for me to relay a message.”

“What is it?”

“One moment…” Threepio stands straight, its vocalizer going to a more cantankerous pitch: “Tell Luke to get his ass in here to save me from death by committee, or I’ll drag him back to that Wompa cave. Got it, tinhead?” 

“Wompa cave?” Rey asks.

“Don’t ask.” Luke pinches the bridge of his nose. “Threepio, let mom know we’ll be another minute. Tell Han we’ll be another hour.”

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s a joke, Threepio.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. I will let them know right away.” It gave a small half-bow. “Please, enjoy your tea.”

Luke waits until the droid’s out of sight, before he turns to Rey. 

“If it makes you feel better, you don’t have to call me brother.” 

Rey winces. “We’re not related.”

“Well good. Who has time for an estranged, Force-sensitive sister?”

Rey gives a little hum, taking another sip of tea. “I don’t know why I feel better after talking to you. You weren’t helpful.”

Luke shrugs, taking another sip as well. “Probably because no one else in the galaxy is as well-versed in Anakin Skywalker drama.”

“That could be it.” Rey sends him a side-glance

He sends one back to her. “Drink your tea. And let’s get the rest of this over with before you strand yourself on an island.”

Rey feels the first itch of a smile. 

\--

Rey goes to change before breakfast. Even she knows smelling like the underside of a freighter isn’t appropriate for a meal. After a quick run in the refresher, she sees two piles of neatly folded clothing on the end of her bed: her sets of Jedi robes, now laundered, and the outfits Padme loaned her.

She stares at them for a long time, before she slowly pulls on her robes. As she re-wraps her arms, she feels a slow calmness settle in. 

\--

Having the rest of the Naberries at the breakfast table changes things. Rey walks in to Han and Leia bickering about something, Luke hovering a tea kettle over his mug as he snipes in from the sidelines, and Threepio scuttling about, trying to reassure itself that everyone had enough to eat.

It feels...voyeuristic, to be here. Intrusive. But she feels Ben’s stare on her again and her attention goes to him. He is part of the group, but on the sides. Quiet and angry. He’s the only one to notice her presence before she announces it, his dark, red-rimmed eyes pinning her in place.

_ I don’t know what you want from me,  _ she thinks quietly.  _ I don’t know if I can be it. I don’t know if trying is only going to make it worse. _

Ben visibly swallows, turning to his plate. Rey quietly takes the seat furthest from him, even if she doesn’t look away.

“Are you well?” Comes Padme’s quiet voice to her left.

Rey can’t smile, or lie, so she just clears her throat. “Pass the sihan peaches, please.”

“Can’t,” Han’s voice cuts in. “Kid took them all already. Eats like a fathier-”

“Han _ ,”  _ growls out Ben.

Rey just stares at him. Her memory working on its own as it recalls the disastrous state dinner, and how he’d given her his share because he claimed he hated the fruit and-

Her fingers dig into the fabric of her pants.

_ You’re not bitter,  _ she thinks, recalling hers and Luke’s conversation. Ben is pointedly not looking at her, his body one long, tense line as he maintains perfect posture and holds his cutlery too tightly.  _ Not at all.  _

Padme dabs at her lips with a napkin. “Rey, have you met Han and Leia?”

“She clocked me in the head with a lightsaber,” Han says flatly. 

She’s not all that sorry about it, since he could have very well been an intruder, so she just looks to the side. “I also fixed the coolant line. And the compressor.”

His lips part. “There was nothing wrong with the compressor!”

“Yes, there was.”

“I checked the thing myself-”

“It was rigged to blow, Han,” Luke says around half a croissant.

“Bantha fodder, I-

“Good morning, Rey,” Leia cuts in. Her features and bearing remind Rey instantly of Padme, but the nova of light within her, and the spark of something wryly humorous in her eyes, remind Rey painfully of Anakin. “Welcome to the zoo.”

Slowly, Rey starts to realize something. Her seat is to the right of Padme, directly across from the twins. It was the only chair open at the table.

...Ben’s place is as far as possible from it.

She’s...she’s in Anakin’s seat. She has to be. Her mind conjures images of him here instead of her. Of hundreds and thousands of breakfasts. 

Her eyes sting. Rey bites the inside of her lower lip. It’s too much.

“Excuse me,” she mutters.

“What is it?” Padme’s voice is soft.

Rey pulls out her chair (lifting the back legs before the front ones), and makes a quick exit. 

\--

It takes her awhile, but eventually Rey thinks she’s found a secluded enough spot in the forest surrounding Varykino’s estate. She finds a tree, and climbs it until there’s a branch that feels private enough. She sits on it, her back to the trunk. Her head’s spinning, and all she wants to do is curl up into a ball and magically will herself back to Coruscant. 

So she does the next best thing.

The comm buzzes to life, and Finn’s form flickers into being in front of her. e looks tired, and Rey feels guilty about waking him up during what was likely Chandrila’s sleep cycle.

_ “Rey? What’s going on?”  _

She tries to think of something to say. Her eyes start to burn.

_ “Rey?” _

And in an instant, it all tumbles out. All of it. Levitating pairs and Skyhoppers and re-learning to draw and a  _ stupidly dangerous  _ library and all of the feelings she’s been trying to keep under reins since her arrival. 

When she’s done, she’s a snot-nosed mess and burying her face in the arms that are crossed over her knees.

“I don’t know what to do,” she manages at last.

There’s a long silence. 

_ “Rey,”  _ Finn sounds sympathetic and kind, not anywhere close to judgmental. “ _ I think this is a lot. And…” _

She sniffles, looking up.

“ _ And maybe it’s time to go back home.” _

Rey closes her eyes.

\--

It’s Leia who finds her. 

“A tree, huh?” Comes the familiar voice from the ground. Rey looks over her perch to see the woman leaning against the trunk, studying her nails.

Rey wipes furiously at her eyes with the heel of her hands. “Sorry, I. I’m just. Meditating-”

“Sure,” she says gently. “Let’s talk when you decide to come down.”

She Force jumps to the ground, eyes still red and puffy. Leia takes this in, and after a moment she steps closer. Rey tightens, not sure what’s about to happen, but the woman’s arms merely wrap around her in a hug.

“I know this is hard,” Leia says. “For some reason, all the men in my life need to make a mess of things.”

Rey lets out a short, watery chuckle and lets herself be hugged. 

“No one thinks of you like dad’s shameful secret,” she continues, then pulls away slightly to look her in the eyes. “Just like we hope you don’t think of us the same way?”

Rey shakes her head. 

“Good.” Leia nods, still holding Rey’s arms in comforting way. “That’s good.”

Not sure what to do with this strange, unexpected understanding, Rey closes her eyes. “I think...I think it’s time for me to head home.”

“To Coruscant?”

“Yes.”

“I understand.”

Rey exhales. Her thoughts go to Ben. Of his loneliness that scares him just as deeply as her own scares her. She doesn’t want to leave him. But Varykino is...it’s a haven, not a solution. There’s so much more than just the two of them involved, now. And leaving now doesn’t mean leaving forever--she’d make sure of that.

“But before you go back to the Order…” Leia squeezes, and Rey opens her eyes. “I need your help with something.”

When Rey doesn’t immediately answer, Leia lowers her voice. “It’s for Ben.”

“What do you need me to do?”

\--

An hour later finds her sitting in the junk heap (or  _ Falcon,  _ apparently) at a table with Leia, Han, and Luke. Over the table is a holoprojector: a small, blue figure of the man who tried to assassinate Ben at the center of it.

“Aalto Conoy,” Luke states. “Self-identified as being part of the Separatist movement.”

Rey sends Ben’s parents a careful look. Neither seem surprised by the declaration of a long-dead political sect attempting to kill their son.

“While we can’t find anything on the Separatists, other than a few small-time cells without any real organization, we were able to trace up Conoy’s food chain-”

Conoy’s figure flickers out, replaced by a larger man. He’s around the same age as Han, although more scarred and wearing what Anakin once called “hard fat” --muscles that have given way to paunch. His left arm and leg appeared to be cybernetic.

“This is Moab Ken. Mercenary turned gangster. He’s about mid-level in Kalla the Hutt’s syndicate on Kepler.”

Rey tensed. She knew that planet. “-Kepler?”

Luke sends her a grim look. “That’s right.” A long pause. “And we want you, Han, and Threepio to go there.”

She sits with the information. Kepler was a non-Republic planet in the Outer Rim, rife with criminal activity not unlike Nar Shaddaa.  _ Unlike  _ Nar Shaddaa, it had a unique reputation: Jedi were aggressively unwelcome.

It was also a slaver planet, and there was more than one rumor about the mining industry there being the drect source for the Hutts’ spice trade. 

“You do know they hate Jedi, yes?”

“We know,” Leia says calmly. “And politicians even more. I’ve had my people on Alderaan look into it--Luke and I have active bounties on that planet. Going in would be suicide.”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But there’s only so much a non-Force sensitive can do in organizations like this. We need to find out who attempted to wipe out most of Naboo’s political elite at that dinner. And if they’re on Kepler…I suspect rogue Force users.”

“As in Dark Jedi?” Rey spells out.

“Yes,” Leia states. “And they’re targeting Ben for a reason. I’m too old to believe in coincidences.”

But that wasn’t it. Because Rey sensed the same energy around Leia that often surrounded Yoda. A sense of clairvoyance, of being able to see where threads converged. It was a rare ability, even among the Order. As Anakin’s daughter, no doubt she inherited great gifts in the Force, and Rey had long learned when to listen to the whispers when it spoke.

And so, Rey meets her eyes and makes sure she’s as clear as possible. “You think it has to be me that goes?” 

Leia frowns, liking the truth no more than Rey. “Yes.”

Rey remembers to  _ breathe.  _ And for a moment, she expands her consciousness, lets it float outside of her body. It’s soon clear that Leia’s right. Whatever the next steps are, they’re ones Rey needs to take. The ones Anakin saw, before he sent her away on his deathbed. 

“What about Ben?” She finally asks. Because if this was as dangerous for him as Leia felt, he’d have to stay behind. Without her to look after him. The thought stings.

“Leia and I will stay at Varykino,” Luke says. “With a healthy NSF contingent.”

Reluctantly, Rey nods. “Alright, then.”

“Thank you,” Leia says with a sigh of relief, before shooting Han a meaningful glance.

The older man clears his throat. “Right, well. Just you and me then, kid. I have some diagnostics to run, but we can leave as soon as nightfall.”

Rey knows a lie when she hears it. She had just run several of those diagnostic checks herself. But then she realizes…

They’re giving her time to say goodbye.

Rey gives a quick, jerky nod.

\--

As always, it doesn’t take Rey long to pack her things. Exhausted, she instead takes some time to enter a Jedi trance. By the time she leaves it, the afternoon has given way to evening, and it’s almost time to go.

Her belongings are few: her robes, comm, blaster, and lightsaber all fit well into her pack. She hesitates for a moment, before she also packs the paper and charcoals he’s given her. A quick, abrupt hiding away of treasure. Rey thinks about her destination, and knows that most of this will have to stay on the  _ Falcon  _ or it’s just as good as a target on her back in Kepler. 

She doesn’t know how to say goodbye to either Padme or Ben in light of yesterday’s revelation and tomorrow’s mission. Padme, she thinks, will understand her need for space. She’d have to, if she is...if she had been Anakin’s wife.Whenever something happened, he would vanish.Sometimes for days or weeks at a time. Once, for months.

Ben. Ben she doesn’t think will understand. And Rey knows she can’t tell him why she’s leaving with his father--he’d want to come with. Whatever Leia saw, Rey knows she’s not going to let it get to Ben. 

With a final exhale, Rey shoulders her pack. While she naturally walks quietly, she doesn’t do anything to hide her retreat-- doesn’t stick to the shadows, doesn’t avert the attention of the estate’s staff. 

She has made it to the central hall, and is passing through the space to make it to the docking bay, when she sees a light flickering several rooms away. She knows it’s Ben. He is a tight string in the Force, ready to snap.

Rey steels herself, and walks toward the light.The closer she gets, the more she recognizes it as a fire, reaching out into the shadow with greedy fingers. She stops at the threshold of the room. It’s one of the library’s atriums, a quiet study furnished in warm burgundies and browns. It feels cozy, intimate even. She feels, not for the first time, so  _ misplaced  _ in Ben’s life.

Ben stands with his front to the fire and his back to her with his arms folded behind him. Around his shoulders, he wears a long, dark grey cloak with intricate, golden embroidery along its hems. As his arms are bare, aside from some bicep jewelry, she assumes it’s sleeveless.  He’s also not wearing shoes, and that’s such a strange disconnect from the pompous senator she knows he can be that she’s unable to say anything.

“Decided you could talk to me?” He bites out. 

Rey doesn’t wince. Instead, she takes a few steps into the room. “I’m.” She exhales. “I’m leaving.”

His shoulders tense before he turns around. The style of the cloak doesn’t have an undershirt, and so Rey makes an effort to only look at his face. A mistake, as she sees hurt flash across it. His eyes look black in the lowlight of the room.

“What does that mean?”

“Luke needs help with something,” she explains. And, because she promised not to lie: “I...could use some time away.”

“From me,” he says coldly.

“Not just from you,” she whispers. She looks around the room, at the ceiling. “This. This place is full of…” Rey exhales. “It’s somewhere I wasn’t ever meant to  _ be _ , Ben.”

“That doesn’t have to be true.”

“But it is. And I- we-” 

She runs a hand through her hair. It’d fallen out of its bun earlier, the brown hair a chaotic mess hovering on her shoulders. Ben’s hair, by contrast, is combed and styled beautifully. She is all jagged edges and the Naberries...just  _ weren’t.  _ They had history and family and famous poets who got kidnapped at their estates. 

“I’m a Jedi Knight,” she states finally. “And before that, I was just a sand-rat slave from Jakku. I...I don’t have anything to offer. To anyone.”

He steps closer, and she doesn’t shy away when he goes to rest a hand on her bicep. “You’re not  _ just  _ anything.” Ben’s voice is certain, clear. “Not to me.”

She gives a pained smile. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What do you mean?”

Rey’s gaze flickers up, meeting his. It makes her sick to ask this question, but it’s one she needs to know his answer to. It’s, maybe, the only thing that will let him  _ see  _ like she does.

“Do you think Anakin hurt your grandmother, in the end?”

Ben flinches, his hand dropping from her arm. Rey stands there quietly, already knowing the answer--or, at least, what she believes the answer is. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re not like him _. _ ”

“Yes I am.”

“Rey-”

“ _ Yes I am! _ ” 

The shout surprises both of them: Ben’s expression falls and Rey covers her mouth with a hand. They stand in silence, and Rey tries to steady herself enough to say goodbye and leave this room.

“I...I can’t be what you want, Ben. Just like Anakin couldn’t.” Her eyes sting again. “I don’t know what to do with- with anything that matters. I’m not a good Jedi. I can’t just turn  _ off  _ what I feel, and-”

“Then don’t be a Jedi.”

Her breath hitches, sure she hasn’t heard him right. “What?”

Ben brushes along the ridge of her cheek with his thumb. Warm. He’s warm. “Don’t be a Jedi,” he repeats, softer this time. “Stay on Naboo.”

“I’ve known you less than a month,” she mutters, but it’s a weak protest. They both know it. Whatever it is between them is strong and it’s not letting go. 

“That doesn’t matter.” The hand moves from her cheek to rest on the side of her neck. “I’ve  _ seen  _ you, Rey. Your loneliness. And you’ve seen mine.”

“...She couldn’t even go to his funeral, Ben,” she whispers. “She- she didn’t even know he was hurt until-”

“Stop.”

“And what did he miss here? With you? His children? You  _ hate  _ him. You-” Rey brings her fingers to wrap around his wrist. They don’t fully circle it, but the intent is clear. “You hate him, Ben.”

“This is  _ not  _ about Anakin,” he snarls. 

“How can it not be?” Rey moves his hand from her. Once it drops, his fingers curl into a fist at his side.

“ _ Because _ .”

She takes a step back. “Padme told you to end it.”

Ben watches her, his lips pressed in a thin line. She feels his anger in the air between them, vibrations emanating from his body. It’s a miracle nothing is levitating.

“You agree with her,” he infers, voice carefully flat.

“I don’t want to,” she whispers. “But maybe now’s the time. Before we go too far-”

Ben shakes his head, jaw working. “Then you’re right. Maybe you’d better leave,” he snarls. “Before this starts to  _ mean  _ anything to you.”

“That’s not fair,” she says quietly. 

“About as fair as you expecting I’d listen to my grandmother.”

They stand in silence. She feels his emotions just as tangibly as her own. She suspects it’s the same. Neither of them can hide from each other, both of them know that deep down, they want the same thing. After a moment, he starts to pace.

She exhales. “There’s...The Order has different kinds of-...”**

“Different kinds of  _ what _ ?”

Rey can’t say the word, so she starts again. “I can be your friend, Ben.”

“No,” he says, sounding hurt. “You can’t.”

Rey winces. He stops pacing to face her again.

“I don’t know what this is, but it’s ours.  _ Ours _ . And I’m not giving it up,” he manages.

“Ben-”

He storms past only to pause at the door, back facing her. “Find me when you’re done running.” His shoulders hunch in, just a little. "And I'll be waiting."

Then he’s gone.  
And Rey is alone.

\--

Before she leaves, Rey slowly digs out her lightsaber and sets it down on a nearby table. 

She can’t take it where she’s heading, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** of love :3
> 
> -beautiful art inspired by this fic! check out kylorenjyn's lovely inktober piece of [the lovebirds on the kidnapping balcony!](http://gizkasparadise.tumblr.com/post/178705624922/alicestill-kylorenjyn-inktober-day-2)
> 
> -also don't worry they'll be back together soon
> 
> \--  
> Ben's Anguished Goodbye Look is a cross between this [Rococo cloak](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279471783111/%22) and one of Padme's [concept outfits.](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279471782787/) Thanks mneme & v for helping!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slams mug on the floor
> 
> ANOTHER!

**\--** **  
****ABY 29** **  
** **\--**

It’s impossible to see the stars on Coruscant, but somehow Rey and Zekk have found their way to the roof of the old garage, feet dangling over the edge of it. The artificial sunlight of the mid-level is beginning to flicker on, and Rey worries her lower lip. She can’t see the temple from here. 

“So,” Zekk starts. Neither of them have slept, which is her fault. 

Rey kicks out her feet. Their shoulders graze each other whenever one of them moves. “So.”

“How come Finn’s not going?”

She winces. “I, uh.”

Zekk tilts his head, causing his inky fall of hair to slide. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

She looks away.

“I didn’t think so,” Zekk says quietly. “Did something happen with you two?”

“No.”

“Then why doesn’t he know?”

Rey exhales, all the weight of the world on her fourteen-year-old shoulders. “He’d come with, if he did.”

“And that’s...bad?”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. It’s bad.”

“Because you’re a Jedi?”

Her eyes go wide, and she snaps her head to face Zekk. “How-?”

“Your braid.”

“I thought I’d hid that.”

“You did. I just...notice things. About you.” His cheeks went a slightly darker green.

She feels hot in the face, fiddles with the sleeves of the too-big jacket Zekk had loaned her. “Like what?”

“Just. Things.” He seems like he’s about to stop himself, but after a moment he changes his mind. “I think about you a lot.” 

Her face goes warmer. The look she sends him is shy, hesitant. He gives her an equally shy one in return. 

“Where to?” He offers after a long stretch of silence.

Rey kicks out a leg, grabs a protein bar out of Zekk’s jacket and starts chewing on it. “What about Ennth?”

He shakes his head. “You can’t go to Ennth.”

“Why not?”

“It’s about time for it to blow up again.”

“Your planet blows up?”

“Every seven years.”

“Why don’t people move?!”

“They like it there.”

“ _ Why _ .”

Zekk shrugs. She continues to chomp down on the protein bar, sending him a look drenched in new, healthy skepticism. Once the bar is finished, she tucks the wrapper back in Zekk’s pocket.

“Did you want to come with me?” She finally asks, the question making her stomach twist. She doesn’t want him to say no. 

He nods. “I’m sick of collecting junk. Peckhum’s great, but I want to do  _ more _ ...” When he smiles at her, her stomach gets twisted up all over again--although for different reasons. “Where’d you want to go?”

The question throws her. She’s barely left Coruscant, and when she did it was only for missions with Anakin. She had no idea. Not Jakku. Never Jakku again. Rey bites down on her thumb.

“I don’t know. How about you?”

He thinks about it for a moment. “Mon Calamari."

Rey nods, approving. She’s never seen an ocean, and Mon Calamari is supposed to have some of the most beautiful beaches in the galaxy. “We’d better get moving, then. Before they know I’m gone.”

“So we’re really running away to become pirates?”

She nods, certain. 

Zekk gives a little grin. Still shy, he reaches and tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. Like one of those holovids Tahiri sometimes sneaks in. She feels the cool tips of his fingers against her neck. Her entire body feels...squirmy. Nervous. Almost unconsciously, she leans forward.

He waits for a second, and then he ducks his head down-

-his lips are warm against hers. Soft. Some of his hair tickles her cheek and her heart leaps right up into her throat. 

It only lasts a few seconds, because as if out of shock at his own actions, he pulls away. His cheeks and ears are deep green. Rey’s staring at him as if he’s grown an extra head. 

“I, uh.” He clears his throat, fidgeting as he pulls his long hair back into its customary ponytail. “I should. Find some supplies.”

“Supplies,” Rey echoes.

“For the- for.” He smiles, fingers now fidgeting with the chromometer at his wrist instead of his hair. “So we can leave before...traffic.” 

It's Coruscant. There's always traffic. But his smile makes her smile, too.

“I can do pre-checks," she offers, "while you’re getting…”

“Supplies.”

“Right.”

“Good idea.”

Her heart’s pounding, unsure of the source as she’s both nervous and excited in equal measure. Not knowing what to do after getting her first kiss, she settles on a thumb’s up before hopping off the top of the garage.

Face burning, Rey makes her way to the small freighter Zekk said was his. Her steps slow when she recognizes a familiar presence in the Force.

Anakin leans against the hull of the freighter, arms folded within his Jedi robes. His expression is carefully neutral and his thoughts are shielded from her.

“Going somewhere, junkrat?” He asks quietly. 

**\--**   
**ABY 34** **  
****10 days later** **  
****\--** **  
****  
** “Ugh,” Han mutters, flipping a few switches overhead to cool down the  _ Falcon’s  _ ionized engines. “I hate Kepler.”

Rey’s never been, for obvious reasons. “What about it?”

Han’s nose wrinkles, lips pulling his expression into a deeper frown. “Youths,” is what he settles on.

Rey sends him a quizzical look. He sends her a wry one before he sighs, acquiescing to her silent question.

“We’re landing in Clo Nisi, and it’s got a reputation. Full of youngsters making their credits in tech.”

“So it’s an industrial center?”

He snorts, “Of sorts. C’mon, grab your pack and lets go.” He pauses, giving her a once over. “You remember our cover, right?”

Rey straightened, tugging down the sleeves of her coat. It was made out of some kind of stiff wool, a light grey in color and went down to about her mid-thigh, the cut asymmetrical. The pants were of the same material and tailored like military clothing. Her black, worn boots she kept. Nothing about the disguise spoke to fighting ability--no weapons or holsters, and her hair was in an impractical side braid that rested over her shoulder. She looked, and felt,  _ corporate.  _ Rich in a careless sort of way. 

Han wore the same jacket as always.

“I don’t think they’ll believe I’m your daughter,” she stated matter of factly. 

“Sure they will. I got brown hair,  _ you  _ got brown hair. It’s foolproof.”

“Almost every human has brown hair.”

Han gave a grumpy huff, sending her a sideglance. “Look, I know what I’m doing. Trust me, okay sand rat?”

“It’s  _ Rey. _ ”

“Wrong. It’s Iella," he corrects, using her codename for the mission. 

She scowls.  
  
"See?” He winks. “You got a lot to learn.”

She crosses her arms, defiant. “We haven’t started the mission.”

“Knight- excuse me-  _ Mistress, _ ” Threepio chimes behind them, sitting at the comms station and sounding proud of itself, “I’ve been able to secure an appointment in an hour at the distribution center. I was  _ most  _ convincing, if I say so myself!”

“Probably bored them into submission,” Han grumbles, pushing himself out of the pilot’s seat. He gives Rey a short, shoulder-clap as he passes by. 

“Come on, let’s jump into the hive of scum and villainy.”

\--

“Would you care for an organic smoothie?” 

Rey blinks up at the chromatic protocol droid, polished to perfection. In its hands was a tray of strange, also chromatic, orbs. 

“Is that...food?”

“It’s a deconstructed concept, yes.”

“I can eat it?”

“Of course.”

“Alright then.” She takes one, slurps. It tastes like grass.

To her right, Han rocked back and forth tensely, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes darted from what would be corner-to-corner, were the room not circular. The distribution center was their first stop in locating Moab Ken, and what Rey had expected was something closer to home: loud noises, the smell of plasma welding, and the whir of auto-assembly lines.

What she got instead was a near-perfect white room with hammocks for chairs. Delicate chimes and the burbling fountain in the center of the space are the only noises aside from her slurping. Nearly everyone in Clo Nisi, Kepler’s capitol, wore shades of white or grey, accented by silver and chromatic jewelry. It reminded her, somewhat, of Obi Wan’s stories of Kamino. 

“I don’t like this,” Han mutters so only she can hear. “We’ve been waiting too long.”

According to her internal clock, it had only been about 10 standard minutes. But she was beginning to share Han’s anxiety. The space was too clean, too bright. Knowing what she knew about Kepler, she was having a hard time reconciling the area with a planet who had an open, standing bounty on Jedi and a healthy slave trade. The pair of them were posing as a father and daughter, her character interested in internship options to complete her degree at the Daidlus Symposium. From there, they’d try to identify Moab Ken, who supposedly shipped illegal weapons from the center.

While Rey could, and had, done undercover missions, she knew she wasn’t very good at them. The sooner this was done, the better. There was a phantom weight where her lightsaber was supposed to be. She wanted it back. She wanted...

“I find chromatic plating quite, pardon my language, unseemly,” Threepio comments, breaking her thoughts. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mistress?”

Rey pivots in her hammock, boots rising off the ground with the motion. She sipped through the smoothie’s straw and looked over the droid contemplatively. This, she was pretty sure, was called  _ fishing.  _

She gives a short nod, knowing it’s sensitive nature. “Gold’s better. It’s…” she tries to think of something nicer to say than  _ old,  _ and settles on: “Timeless.”

Threepio straightens. “My thoughts exactly!”

“I’m counting to three and then I’m shooting somebody,” Han states. He stuffs another snack--what the droid had called an “oar durv”-- into his mouth, chomping sullenly. 

Another ten minutes pass. Thankfully, Han doesn’t shoot anyone.

“So,” he starts, and Rey immediately doesn’t trust his tone. “You and Ben…”

Rey shoots him a glare.

He raises his brows. “Forget I asked.”

“You didn’t ask anything.”

“You answered anyway.”

Cheeks hot, Rey focuses intently on her smoothie. The orb is a very strange container.

“For what it’s worth,” Han continues, trying and failing to find a comfortable spot in the hammock. “It’s good that the kid has a friend.” Something softer enters the man’s permanently grumpy countenance. “Force knows he needs one.”

At the word “Force,” the receptionist for the distribution center makes a grand show of rolling their eyes.

Knowing they’re being listened to, Rey decides to press the conversation as delicately as possible. “I want to be his friend. I don’t know if he’d want to be mine.”

“Because of your…” Han clears his throat, “Internship?”

Rey nods. “It...requires a lot of travelling. Not a lot of time to see someone, if I wanted to.”

Han sits with this for a second, folding his hands over his stomach. “Sounds like a familiar problem. That and the politics.” He makes a show of rolling his eyes. “I can’t stand them, myself.” Han swings his hammock over so it’s closer to hers. “I ate potpourri at a state dinner once, and that was it. I quit.”

Rey’s eyes widen, a sudden and fierce camaraderie emerging. “They shouldn’t put that on plates!”

He sneers at a distant memory. “It was on top of the soup.”

“Who would ruin soup like that?"

“No kidding.”

The pair of them meet eyes. A silent understanding.

“They’re a complicated bunch, aren’t they?” Han offers sympathetically.

“I don’t think I’d-” she exhales, unsure of why she thinks Ben’s  _ father  _ is the one to confide in, of all people. But for some reason it feels right: junk rat and scoundrel. Both permanent outsiders to Naboo. “There’s not a place for me there. Even if that’s what...my professor wanted for me.” 

Han’s expression goes soft, somewhere between sad and wistful. “I get it, kid. I really do.”

Rey smiles, comforted by the sympathy. And troubled by it. 

A few more minutes pass by, and soon there’s the soft footfalls of someone walking toward them. Both Rey and Han look up. The person approaching is a human, brown hair styled in an undercut with the top swooped over. He’s dressed in a suit not unlike Rey’s, buttoned up tightly to his adam’s apple. Instead of boots, he wears what looks like slippers. Odd, for a distribution center. He wears a portable holonet device over one of his ears, the screen projecting in a thin band over his eyes like a visor. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, no one realized we had a tour scheduled for the StriveLife Program.” He extends a hand, the finger tips of it dipped in chromatic, cosmetic paint. “I’m Aron. It’s wonderful to meet you,” he blinks, and the device flips through to the next screen. “Iella.”

She shakes his hand. Maybe a little too firmly, judging by his surprised blink. He looks at Han, and the smile is slightly more strained as he takes in the jacket. 

“Will you be attending the tour?”

Han grunts.

Aron clears his throat. “Very well, please follow me.”

\--

Despite its sleek styling and architecture, most of the travel on Clo Nisi is done by small canals. What was once a trading center, the space port was built around natural waterways. A strange, misguided sense of historical preservation maintained these passages, even though new buildings sprung up over old ones, as housing became replaced with manufacturing. The heart of Clo Nisi was comfortable, relaxed wealth with tech thinktanks. The outside of it was slums.

Something Rey experienced firsthand, as Aron gave them a tour from the front of their watercraft--it was white, of course. The water itself was silver, tainted with Bismidal, a mineral used to make spice. A protocol droid had warned her, in several languages, not to drink it. 

The tour continued, as the distribution center floated like an island between several, intersecting canals. As they made their way back to the hub, Rey noticed figures in a distant canal, partially submerged in the tainted water. All in a grey fabric she can’t identify. 

She starts when she realizes what they are. Uniforms.

Han stops her with a firm grip on her arm.

“Ask him about job placement rates,  _ Iella, _ ” he says quietly.

“There’s  _ people  _ in there-”

“I told you, this place is a cesspool for gangsters. Corporate murder is legal here. So don’t look, and remember you’re playing a local.” He softened his tone. “There’s not much we can do for them now.”

Rey shivers. Not with terror, but pure and undiluted anger.

“That’s about it for the tour,” Aron carries on, as though nothing is out of the ordinary. The hovering watercraft slides up to a port, where protracting, mechanic arms reach out and fasten it to the docking bay. 

It took everything Rey had to keep herself in character. To not scream at him that he was a murderer. She knows what she’s supposed to do next according to the mission: ask about opportunities in weapon distribution, with a made-up line about her thesis being on heat sinks. But she’s trembling with barely suppressed rage and all she wants is her lightsaber. She  _ won’t  _ work with them, even for a mission.

_ Those aren’t people to you, are they?  _ She thinks as her chest starts to heave up and down.  _ They’re just  _ slaves. 

“Iella,” Han says in a careful, measured voice. “Do you have questions for Aaron?”

“It’s Aron.”

“Whatever.”

As though sensing the tension, Aron coughs delicately. “We’re happy to give you both complementary magstickers for your freighter. As well as koozies-”

Rey swings her arm back, and punches him in the face. 

\--

“Well,” Han says dryly as the cell door buzzes into life behind them. “That could have been handled better.”

She’s fuming, chest still heaving as she paces between one side of the cell and the other. “They’re  _ monsters _ !” 

He raises a hand, expression caught between annoyance and commiseration. “You’re not going to hear otherwise from me, kid. But they were our contact, for better or worse.”

“ _ Worse, _ ” she says vehemently. “Absolutely _worse_! And they confiscated Threepio!” 

“They’ll regret that in about 3 seconds.”

“That’s not the point!"

Han rubs his chin with his whole hand, letting the motion drag. Then he sighs. 

“Just. Give me a second. I’ll think of something.” He turned around, and pressed his hand against the cell. It sparked, and Han let out a loud  _ YELP  _ before being knocked backwards and to the ground.

“Han-!”

His hair’s standing on end as he shakes his hand angrily. “Karking Hutt ass!” 

“Why’d you touch the bio-electric screen?!”

“I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a forcefield-”

“Forcefields are  _ purple,  _ this is clearly  _ yellow- _ ”

“It’s called  _ improvising,  _ sand rat! Like that damn punch you threw!”

“I don’t feel bad about that at all!”

“You shouldn’t, it was a good right hook!”

“Then why are you yelling at me about it?!”

“BECAUSE I JUST ELECTROCUTED MYSELF _AND THINGS AREN'T GOING WELL_ -!”

“This,” comes a dry voice that makes both Rey and Han stop mid-bicker. “Is about what I expected.”

She turns.

On the other side of the cell wall, Ben stands with his arms folded across his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unlike rey, ben is not good at waiting...
> 
> -Rey's [undercover costume](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/500040364850596578/)
> 
> -Kepler & Clo Nisi are made up by me!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i'm lagging behind on answering comments lately, but know that i appreciate every one of them and love yall very much <3 <3 <3

**\--** **  
** **ABY 29** **  
** **\--** **  
**

The words are out faster than she can think them. “Where _were_ you?”

Anakin winces, maybe because it’s louder than she meant to say it. Or maybe because she hears how her voice breaks at the end, so he must, too.

“I had to…” he sighs, shakes his head. “I’m here now, Rey.”

“You-!” Her voice is breaking more, now. And she hates it. Hates how her face is scrunching up, how her eyes are watering. She is trying so very hard to be _angry_ right now and it’s not working. “You were gone for months! I thought you-”

“Rey-”

“I thought you left me behind!”

His lined face tenses. She can tell he wants to yell something back. That’s how they worked, sometimes. Seeing who could be loudest. But most of all, he just looks sad, too.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he settles on.

She swallows. “But you did _._ ”

Silence stretches between the two of them. Anakin doesn’t apologize, but she feels his turmoil. She doesn’t know why he’s upset, when it’s _his fault._

“Is that what you’re doing now? Leaving?” He finally asks. His voice is tight, she can’t tell if it’s because he’s angry or upset. Maybe he doesn’t know either. Because he does this, sometimes. He gets upset, and then that makes him angry at himself. And Rey has noticed he doesn’t know what to do after that.

Rey sticks her chin up, even though it’s still wavering a little. Her hand grabs tightly to the strap around her shoulder. “Yes.”

“With a boy.”

She scowls, embarrassed and angry. “With my _friend._ ”

“I thought Finn was your friend.”

Rey bites down on her lower lip. “You don’t get to say things like that to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you…” she has no idea how to finish that sentence, so she says the first thing her angry mind can come up with. “You’re a _bad Master,_ that’s why!”

He flinches.

Rey blinks by squeezing her eyes shut. They’re so itchy, and stupid, right now. “I’m not going to be a Jedi anymore,” she says. It doesn’t sound very convincing.

“Because I left?”

“No.” Yes.

“You’re leaving Finn. And Tenel Ka. And Tahiri.” He takes a step forward. “You’re leaving a lot of people, Rey.”

Her grip on her bag wavers, just a little.

Anakin looks like he wants to take a step forward, but doesn’t. “Where are you going?”

“Mon Calamari.”

“...is that what you really want?”

She doesn’t know. She’s upset and she’s hurting. “Yes.”

“Is it because of the boy?”

“He’s seventeen!”

There’s a long pause, broken only by Anakin’s equally long sigh. He rubs the bridge of his nose in a way that is distinctly Obi Wan. And that makes anger flare in her, because he doesn’t get to be Obi Wan right now.

“I’m really going!”

Anakin looks up. He looks sad.

“I’m leaving _right now,_ ” she threatens. And she, like her Master, is stubborn enough to do it.

So she does. She turns around and walks away. Zekk is standing by the doorway of his garage, clearly having listened to the whole thing.

He stares at her, a silent question.

Rey rolls her shoulders back. “Let’s finish supplies.”

“Okay,” he whispers, eyes darting back to the old man.

\--

It takes about fifteen minutes for them to finish pre-flight checks. The whole time, she senses Anakin. He hasn’t left. She doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. Because she is serious. She is going to leave. Just like he did.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Zekk asks her as he begins to power up the freighter.

“ _Yes,_ ” she near growls back.

He watches her carefully. “We can stay, if you want. I’d understand.”

“No,” Rey says, flipping toggles that don’t do anything.

“...we can always come back, too.”

“I don’t want to come back.”

Zekk, wisely, falls silent. In another five minutes, they’re ready for take-off. Rey swallows her disappointment as the ship begins to prepare for flight.

There’s a knock on the hull.

Rey doesn’t move. Zekk looks at her, then the door. After a moment, he coughs awkwardly, and gets up to answer it.

“She…” starts Anakin’s voice. “Forgot her multi-kit. And thermal inlays.”

Rey blinks back tears again.

“I’ll, um, make sure she gets them. Sir.”

Very levelly: “Master.”

Zekk does that cough again. Rey doesn’t look back. Very pointedly. And the door hisses closed.

Zekk walks back to the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. Sure enough, her multi-kit is in his hands. The leather of the belt has been oiled, the tools cleaned. She never did that. On top is a thermal inlay-- it’s one of Anakin’s old jackets.

Rey sniffles. “I don’t need a jacket for the beach.”

“Rey,” Zekk says gently.

She bites down on her lower lip. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to be,” he says, equally soft.

\--

Her booted feet make clomping noises as she runs across the front of Zekk’s garage. Anakin looks up just in time for a blur of brown hair and beige robes to run into him.

“You’re so _stupid,_ ” she manages, full-on crying as she wraps her arms around his waist tightly.

His fingers comb through her hair, paternal, as his body relaxes and he returns the embrace.

“Yeah, I am.”

\--

Neither Master nor padawan notice Zekk powering down the freighter with a sad, wistful expression.

  
**\--** **  
** **ABY 34** **  
** **\--**

She says the first thing that comes to mind, lips parted and confused. “What are you doing here?”

He looks...different. Like her, he seems to be playing some kind of character. His slightly long hair is now shaved down on the sides, the top combed back. He wears a sharply cut suit top, a dark grey with stiff, upward turned lapels and black pants. She hates it. Because he looks too much like the workers at the distribution center, even though she knows that’s the point.

The way Ben looks at her can only be described as lingering. He takes stock of her own clothes, the side braid resting on her shoulder. She wonders if he hates this costume as much as she does.

“I followed you,” he says simply.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what I wanted to do.”

Rey stares at him, not sure how to respond. Especially when she’s in a jail cell, holorecorders likely in every corner.

“Good timing, kid,” is all Han says. His hair is still sticking straight up.

The look Ben gives his father is pure acid. Han absently pats down his hair.

Whatever they’re about to say is interrupted by a cold woman in an all-chromatic, tailored ensemble walking into the room. Her pale hair is cut severely straight, and her accent sounds Coruscanti.

“She’s been processed,” is all she says, tone cold as clean, blunt fingers begin to key in a code. Her light blue eyes send Rey a piercing look. “Another violent altercation and your spouse won’t be able to get your release with simple bail.”

Her eyes go wide, both Han and her turning to look at Ben. His face is carefully neutral, but his ears are slightly pink.

The bioelectric shield flickers down. Rey steps through it, a little less than a foot away from Ben. Han tries to follow after her, but the woman presses another button and he instead barely stops before the field buzzes him again.

“What’s this about?” He says, smooth but also clearly annoyed.

The security guard only raises one, fine eyebrow. “Credits were only posted for Iella Wessiri.”

Han, she thinks, _pouts._ Rey sighs. They don’t have time for this.

“You’re going to leave now,” she says, pulling the Force to her, letting it hover over this woman’s mind. Her thoughts, like her presence, are cold.

“I’m going to leave now,” she repeats.

Han and Ben’s attention snaps to Rey. She does her best to ignore their expressions--Han wary, Ben intensely focused. Both make her uncomfortable.

“You’re going to delete our records and any footage that shows we were here.”

“I’m going to delete the records and holorecordings.”

Rey nods, pleased. She sends a side-glance to Ben, feeling guilty. “You’re also going to return this man’s credits.”

The guard doesn’t say anything, only holds up her datalog. Rey hears the small tone of a transfer.

She’s starting to ask for too much. She can sense the woman’s will pushing against her own. Rey takes a slow inhale. “Tell me where my droid is.”

“ _Your_ droid-” Han starts.

“Docking bay D-20. An auxiliary storage unit.”

“Okay,” Rey says, “Thank you. Please leave.”

“I’ll leave.”

The woman’s gone in a set of sharp footfalls.

“Kid,” Han says, shaking his head, “That was something.”

Nervous, she sneaks a glance at Ben. His eyes are wide, but his expression is curious. Intent. She gives an awkward clearing of her throat. “We should get going.”

“Just let me out of this cell and we’re golden.”

A long pause.

“Ben…” Han says in a low, careful voice. “Let your old man out of jail.”

Ben looks at his father, then the containment cell’s deactivation grid without moving toward it.

“Ben,” Han presses, tone unchanging.

Rey wonders if he’s about to count to three. Obi Wan used to count to three.

“You probably belong in a cell,” Ben says calmly.

Rey sighs, rolling her eyes before punching the keypad. It slides open, and Han gives a little huff in the direction of his son as the three of them walk out of the jail.

\--

“You shouldn’t have followed us.” Rey frowns. “ _How_ did you follow us?”

Ben leans forward, his hands are close enough to touch hers where they sit at the _Falcon’s_ dejarik table. She retreats, setting them in her lap and pretending she doesn’t see something flicker across Ben’s face at the moment.

“You taught me,” he says simply.

“What?”

“In the trees,” he seems to be struggling for words. “When we played that game.”

The sound of his laugh comes to mind, and Rey banishes it as quickly as she can. “You cloaked your signature,” she realizes.

He nods.

“And followed mine?”

He nods again.

She doesn’t want to admit that she’s impressed, but she is. “...you shouldn’t be able to do that yet,” she whispers.

“I’m an eager student.”

For some reason, that makes her bite down on her lower lip and break eye contact.

The pair of them sit alone in the _Falcon,_ Han having gone to retrieve Threepio. Ben had looked distinctly annoyed when his father left with a wink and a warning for them to play nice.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she says, dully. “There’s all sorts of assassins on this planet.”

“Apparently there’s assassins on my planet, too.”

Rey sighs, “Ben.”

“I didn’t want to give you space.”

She looks up at that. It seems Ben hasn’t stopped staring at her yet. “What?”

“If I give you space,” he starts, voice so clear and certain it’s almost like he’s talking about agriculture tarifs again. “You’ll rationalize this. It’s not meant to be rationalized.”

“There isn’t a this,” she whispers.

“Yes, there is.”

“I thought I told you about…” her stomach twists into small knots. “About how this couldn’t work.”

“You did,” he reaches across the table. This time, Rey numbly lets him take her hand. He holds it on the table, hands cupped and his engulfing hers. “And I want a rebuttal.”

She blinks, noticing the stern set of his jaw. The determined glint in his eyes. And something occurs to her. “Are you...negotiating with me?"

He gives a short, curt nod.

“It’s not a debate!”

“Debate is the art of postponing decisions.” He squeezes her hand. His grip is warm, comforting. Through touch, she can feel his thoughts and emotions more clearly. They are a mirror of her own, only more confident. Stubborn. “I already made mine.”

“You can’t just travel across the galaxy, interrupt a mission, and put yourself directly in the line of danger to prove a point.”

“You and Han have all the subtlety of drunken zakkegs.” His eyes meet hers, searching. “How long were you on this planet before you were arrested?”

Rey narrows her eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” Ben leans back, but he continues to hold her hand. “You’re in more danger than I am on this planet. Kepler, especially Clo Nisi, isn’t for Jedi or old scoundrels.” His mouth tightens. “It’s for politicians.”

“We can handle this-”

“Moab Ken works for the distribution center’s lowtown branch. It’s located about three miles outside of the hubcity. He’ll be there tomorrow, overseeing a transfer of arms to a Black Suns-affiliated outfit.”

Rey’s mouth also tightens.

“I’ve been here as long as you. What have you found out?”

She knows he’s only saying this to make his point, but she still bristles. “We’re working on it.”

“From inside a cell?”

“Thank you for the information,” she says through grit teeth. “But you should go back to Naboo.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No _."_

“This isn’t a joke or a game, Ben-”

He leans across the table, his body in a half-stance. It’s sudden and quick, and Rey barely registers his hand resting on the side of her neck and cheek before his lips press against hers. His kiss is short, but heated and insistent. When he withdraws, his forehead rests on hers.

“I’m not playing, Rey,” he promises, voice slightly hoarse.

It takes her a moment to catch her bearings, eyes blinking slowly as she brings her hand to his wrist. He looks hurt, her movement an implication that she’s about to push him away.

Rey only sighs, before she kisses him in return. Lighter, slower. Exploring. She’s so angry at herself for doing it, but it’s also the only thing that seems right. She feels him part his lips under hers-

“Gasp!” Cries Threepio from the door. “ _Master Ben!_ ”

Ben swears, but Rey pulls away almost instantly-- back ramrod straight.

“ _What,_ Threepio?”

“It’s certainly not my place, but I feel it is my imperative to inform you that  _dalliances_ are prohibited between-”

Rey’s cheeks are definitely burning.

“We. Are. Aware,” Ben says through grit teeth.

“Aware of what?” Han asks, following the droid into the ship. A slow smirk forms on his face as he takes in the scene: Rey, sitting with perfect posture and bright-red cheeks. Threepio, leaning back slightly in a way Han has learned to recognize as _aghast_. And Ben, his pride and joy, looking like he’s about to commit murder and half-leaning over a dejarik table.

“Not interrupting anything, are we?”

Rey scoots back her chair. “I’m going. To meditate.” She scrunches her face, trying to push past whatever just happened. “On the mission.”

Han has to try very hard not to laugh. “The mission’s important.”

She gives a stiff nod, before she walks toward the back of the _Falcon,_ where her temporary quarters are stationed. As soon as she leaves, Han leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“So,” he begins.

Ben glares at him like he could commit patricide.

“She’s cute,” Han offers.

His son goes into a full stand, scowling. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Ben’s fists clench.

“I take it you’re sticking around?” Han asks.

Ben stares at him as though he's a pure idiot.

Han sighs. “Don’t tell your mother.”

\--

Rey splashes water on her face almost immediately, trying to understand what it was she just did. She’d encouraged him. He had followed her into what could be a suicide mission for him and she’d _encouraged him-_

She reaches for her sleep shirt in her pack, eager more than ever to put aside her disguise for a moment.

When she does, her stack of drawing papers flutters out. Rey thinks nothing of it, until she begins to pick them up and notices a small, scrawled note on the back of one of the blank papers. She doesn’t remember writing it. She settles into a crouch as she brings it closer to her eyes-- the writing is careful, compact. Written like something that wasn’t meant to be read by anyone else but its author:

you are not a star.  
stars are ways to die in collapse,  
memories of broken lights.

you are not a star.  
you are how common earth shines,  
in spite of all its suns.

Rey looks at the poem, rereads it. And gently sets it down on the nightstand, like it will break.

She knows who wrote it. She knows who it’s about.

Rey goes from a crouch to sitting on the floor.

And meditation does not come easily. It, in fact, does not come at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -i'm not a poet by any stretch of the imagination. i did my best, but pretend it's more moving that what it is :'| (ben's probably a better poet than the author)
> 
> -i'm sorry i gave ben a pseudo-fuckboy haircut. it was vital. for the _mission_
> 
> -[Ben's Clo Nisi outfit](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279471968288/)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set-up chapter before we get into the fun stuff >) enjoy!

**30 ABY** **  
** **\--**

“They’re still at it?”

From where she’s standing, Rey snaps out of a daze. Finn’s voice is a welcome break from the muffled yelling going on behind the closed doors of the Council Chamber.

“They haven’t stopped for at least two hours.”

Finn snorts, sliding in to stand next to her. The sides of their arms touch in comfortable companionship--one Rey is relieved hasn’t changed even though Finn no longer wears a padawan braid. Ever since he got it, their nightly excursions to the swoop tracks have happened less and less. Something Rey is having a hard time letting go of. It means not seeing her friend Zekk (who, ever since their failed attempt at running away together last year, has become decidedly _only_ a friend). It means leaving some things behind. She’s never been good with that.

There’s the distinctive sound of something being Force-thrown across the room.

His brows raise. “Aren’t they supposed to be diplomats?”

Beyond the doors, there’s the undeniable sound of Kyp Durron yelling. Something about preferring to kiss a ronto’s ass and run around naked on Nal Hutta.

Rey presses down a smirk, before clearing her throat and trying her best Yoda impression: “Learn much, they must.”

Finn rolls his eyes at it, but smiles. “Rumor is that it’s between Kyp, Saba, and Phasma. Want to bet? No cheating with Precognition.”

“Force, not Phasma,” she mutters. Finn sends her a quick look, and she scrunches her face. “What?”

“She’s not that bad,” he says, as though it pains him to admit it.

Rey gives a slow blink.

“C’mon, don’t give me that. She saved me during that Duros mission.”

She only scrunches her face further. He sighs.

“My ionic cell that it’s Saba.”

The scrunch recedes. _Now_ it’s interesting. “The new one?”

“The new one.”

“With the inlay compatibility?”

He wiggles his brows, leaning down next to her. “Only if you bet something equally good.”

Rey curls her finger against her chin in thought. “I’ll do your shifts for youngling drills.”

That gets his attention. “How many?”

She does the mental calculations of the ionic cell’s worth. “Three.”

“You’re on. Who’s your bet?”

Rey always was a gambler. And she thinks she can guess Anakin’s vote: “Kyp.”

Finn lets out a short cheer, “Thanks for the tutoring!”

The doors to the Council Chamber swing open. Out storms Kyp Durron, his pink lightsaber ignited and his face in a deeply set scowl. He doesn’t even seem to notice the pair of spectators, cape billowing out behind him as he swears in a long string of Corellian and stomps toward the training facilities like a hurricane.

Finn and Rey send each other slow side-eyes.

After Kyp comes Anakin, arms folded in the sleeves of his robe and looking decidedly amused. “Eavesdropping, were you?”

Rey faces her Master. “I take it Kyp lost the election for Grand Master.”

A slow, slow smirk crosses Anakin’s face.

“No, he won.”

Something shatters again in the distance.

Rey’s smirk matches Anakin’s, and Finn looks like he’s getting a headache. “You voted for him, didn’t you?”

“The Jedi could use a blister in their boots.” He turns, ruffling her hair as he walks by. “Besides, I couldn’t let my apprentice be wrong, could I?”

He turns to Finn. Winks. “Enjoy the ionic cell.”

Rey’s smirk becomes a full smile.

“By the way,” Anakin calls back as he starts walking down the hall to his quarters. “The Council also decided it’s time for your Trials.”

Rey’s smile dies, her eyes going wide. Finn laughs beside her, patting her on the back.

\--

As soon as he’s out of sight, Anakin’s smirk falls and his face takes on a troubled expression.

  


**34 ABY** **  
** **\--**

“Yoo hoo!”

Rey’s head jerks back almost violently at a hand suddenly waving in front of her eyes. “I’m _driving_ -!” She growls.

Han moves back to his side of the speeder, looking smug for reasons she can’t understand. “That’s why I waved. Eyes on the freakishly white ground and drug-contaminated rivers.”

She grits her teeth. “I’ll turn this speeder around and leave you.”

Out of her peripheral vision, she sees Han press his hand over his chest, affronted. “I just wanted you to know that you missed your turn, sandrat.”

“Don’t call her that,” Ben grumbles from the back. He scowls at the landscape as it passes them by with a slumped posture.

“You got something you’d rather I call her?”

“Don’t _._ ”

“Let’s see. There’s sweetheart-”

Rey decidedly keeps her attention on the freakishly white ground and drug-contaminated rivers.

“-your worship-- but that’s taken, my little gizka-- OW!”

There’s an audible _thunk_ as Ben roughly kicks the back of his father’s seat. She sees the old man push himself out of his seat enough to swat at him. Ben doesn’t even move, and the swat misses.

She rubs her temple with the hand not steering. It’s a five-minute speeder ride out of the city to Clo Nisi’s lowtown. A five. Minute. Ride.

“Mistress Rey,” Threepio chimes in directly behind her. “Might we stop for an oil bath? It seems I’ve forgotten to clear my joints before we left-”

That’s it. Rey veers the speeder harshly to the right. Everyone but her goes with it, and she almost feels sympathetic when the droid connects with Ben’s side. Almost.

“Do you even know how to fly this thing, sandrat-!”

“It’s _Rey._ ” She sets the speeder to hover and undoes her safety harness, glaring at Han. “Stop antagonizing Ben.”

Ben smirks-

“Ben, stop antagonizing Han. Threepio, you _just_ had an oil bath before we left Naboo.”

Threepio leans forward to lower its head.

“We’re about to walk straight into a den of filthy smugglers-”

“Not all smugglers-”

She raises a hand and Han wisely falls silent. “And I need to be able to _think_ or we’ll all be killed.” Rey raises her brows. “Do you know how much the bounty is for Jedi here?”

“Approximately six hundred four thousand and ninety-seven credits.”

Rey sends Threepio a dark look as he undercuts her point. “Well, yes. That’s about it.” She doesn’t look at Ben as she continues. “If this is going to work, and if I have any chance of doing the mission undetected, I can’t have any distractions.” She exhales through her nose. “ _Any_ distractions. Clear?”

Neither Han or Ben nod, but they do send each other a quick look. Rey will take that as a truce. She runs a hand through her hair.

“Right.” Rey clears her throat, reining in her temper. “Han, what’s the turn I missed?”

“There wasn’t a turn.”

“What?”

“I was making a point.”

“What was the point?!”

Han grins at her, all roguish and Rey understands how he hasn’t been killed yet and it’s _precisely_ because of that grin. “That I wanted to drive.”

Rey glares at him. And shoves the speeder back into gear.

\--

The moment they step into lowtown, Rey’s glad Anakin gave her his old blaster. It’s a comforting weight at her hip even though her lightsaber is missing. The others seem to be experiencing the same reaction, because Han carries himself a little straighter and Ben scowls at anyone who so much as looks at him for more than a second. As far as motley crews went, she suspects this is one she can work with.

Lowtown itself is strange place. Having been to places like the undercity and the moons of Nal Hutta-- places rife with criminal activity--there’s something _quieter_ about lowtown. Almost haunted. The buildings are skeletal and patchy, thrown up in a hurry and likely left abandoned in as much of a hurry, all built on suspended platforms to keep from touching the polluted, silver water underneath. While the hub of Clo Nisi is all pristine whites and chromes, everything in lowtown is weathered. Paint is chipped, eaten by the water, the viewports are partially caved in. And although it’s the afternoon when they arrive and secure the speeder (which Rey suspects will be stolen despite her security measures), she can tell this isn’t a place anyone wants to be without a weapon.

“Are we clear on the story?” She mutters under her breath as she sets yet another security measure. While lowtown is not far from the hub, she doesn’t want to jeopardize any escape route they might need.

Where she kneels, Ben stands nearby. His energy feels volatile to her, and she’s not sure how confident she is in how he’ll play his part.

“I came up with it, didn’t I?” He sends her a slow look. “I can tell when you’re doubting me, by the way.”

Rey’s fingers become automatic, twisting wires. “Sorry.” And she means it. It’s not going to help anything if he doesn’t know she’s behind him in this. She is.

“Hot wiring speeders a typical part in your training?”

She gives a small smile. “You know who I learned from. So I’m sure you know the answer.”

Ben bristles, and not for the first time, she knows he wishes they didn’t have Anakin hovering over them. But he is. He’s always going to be part of both their lives, their stories. He's why they met in the first place.

Rey strips another two wires. She wants to tell him she saw the poem. But part of her thinks it’s better that he doesn’t know. That’s what he intended, after all. To admit she saw it feels invasive in some way. So instead she shuts the panelling.

“That should do it. Worst they can do is strip some of the external parts without being electrocuted.”

Ben offers her a hand up, she takes it. Grease coats both their skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “And yes, I’m clear on the cover.” There’s a slight rise to a corner of his mouth. “I came up with it.”

She smiles, small but genuine. On impulse, she squeezes his hand before she lets it drop. “When do we meet with the dealers?”

“An hour.” Ben’s attention reluctantly turns from her to Han and Threepio, where they stand across the small walkways the town provides above the fuming, toxic water. “I’d be more concerned with them.”

‘Give them some credit.”

“You don’t know Han.”

“He’s not that bad.”

Ben frowns.

Rey leans against the speeder. They're almost close enough to touch.

“Really,” she adds. “He’s not. _I’m_ the reason we ended up in the cell.”

Ben’s next words are tight. “Any situation, he’ll run. That’s what he does.”

She tilts her head. “We’re not talking about the mission anymore, are we?”

“...No.”

Rey absently twists a finger in the sidebraid of her hair. They’ve kept their Clo Nisi garb-- something that’s drawn either hungry or disdainful looks from the members of lowtown. But that’s alright, they came here to be noticed. In the distance, Han is angrily pointing at the protocol droid.

“He’s in a hard place,” she says, more to herself, but the proximity makes it easy to misinterpret.

“And you’re the expert?”

“A little.” Rey remembers the conversation they had at the distribution center. “Han ate potpourri at dinner, once, too.”

Ben watches her carefully as he scowls. “You’re not like Han.”

“Anakin, Han…” she stops fiddling with her hair in favor of sighing. “You seem to know a lot about who I’m not.”

“Rey-”

“Iella,” she quietly corrects. “And we’d better get going.”

With that, she makes her way to Han and Threepio. After a moment, Ben follows as well.

\--

It wasn’t the most complicated mission she’s run, although typically the roles are reversed: Finn in undercover, her in infiltrating. But she doesn’t want anyone else covering Ben’s back in this--a realization that makes her uneasy. She’s protective of him, but in a way that doesn’t feel like it aligns with the Jedi’s version of dutiful bodyguard. But the discomfort is secondary to the fact that she knows no one will hurt him while she’s there. She’ll make sure of it.

Han and Threepio leave after a quick “good luck” and Han patting an unmoved Ben’s shoulder.  While Rey and Ben meet with Moab Ken, they’re meant to sneak into his main warehouse and hack the console for more information on the Separatists. She _is_ worried about them, despite what she’s said to Ben-- their job arguably more riskier. But Han was a former smuggler in a den of smugglers, and Rey feels like he can improvise well enough if the occasion calls for it. It’s a small reassurance.

Ben and Rey, meanwhile, will be posing as buyers. It’s a cover Ben somehow managed to secure before releasing them from jail. She’ll be playing an assistant to his shady businessman, a role she doesn’t mind since it places her out of mind but still close in case anything goes wrong.

The walk to the warehouse is quiet, but tense. Rey stays a half-step behind Ben, quite literally watching his back. In her hand is a datapad. It doubles as a prop for the dutiful assistant role as well as a tracking device should something go wrong and they need an extraction. Around them, the sun sets and lowtown becomes more lively. The fumes from the tainted water are odorless, but Rey feels a hum in her veins that’s not normal. She’s tempted to use the Force as a purifying mechanism, but is worried about calling attention. If what Leia said was true, there were likely means for the Jedi-hating citizens of Kepler to detect Force users.

While their clothing draws a few eyes, most people don’t pay them much mind. The warehouse district is full of traders, slavers, and war merchants -- people who come and go without staying somewhere long. For once, it pays to be a stranger.

“If this goes wrong-”

“It won’t go wrong,” Ben says as he strides forward. His arms are folded behind his back in the utmost display of confidence-- no one else is walking without a hand close to their holster.

“ _If_ it goes wrong, your first move needs to be to run.”

“No.”

“ _Ben_. These people are likely after you. They’ll shoot first. I’m here to be between you and them-”

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

“That’s _the whole point_ of being a bodyguard.”

He doesn’t say anything, but she feels his annoyance spike. “Do you have to remind me every five minutes.”

“Maybe I’m reminding both of us.”

Ben slows, looking at her over his shoulder. Rey looks away.

“I read your poem,” she mumbles. Because if this goes bad, maybe she won’t get to say it later.

She feels a slight spike of panic. “Which one?”

Rey’s eyes widen. “There’s more than one?”

“There’s...a few.”

She’s not sure how to respond to that. She’s had attention from men and women before, usually grateful clients of successful missions. But this is different, made all the more different from the fact that it wasn’t meant to flatter or gain her affection. It just...was. They just _were._

So Rey just says what she’s thinking. “Thank you.”

Ben starts turning-

Rey shakes her head. “We’ll...We’ll have to talk about it later.”

He seems like he wants to ignore her request, but they’re both aware of their proximity to Moab Ken’s docking bay. So he only nods. “Later.”

Ben faces forward again. And Rey takes a deep breath. Time to be a distraction.

\--

“Thracken!” Shouts out a Twi’lek man Rey doesn’t recognize, dressed in a royal blue flightsuit and rushing toward them.

On his arm is a white armband with a black sun stamped on it, showing his allegiance to the Black Suns. Through Zekk, Rey is more than familiar with their branch in Coruscant’s undercity. They had their hands in everything, from swoop racing to gambling to prostitution to spice dealing. More than that, they were known for their brutality. She’d been more than happy to take their credits whenever she won a race.

Rey tenses, hand on the blaster and ready to shoot-

But the Twi’lek only bows deeply before clasping Ben’s forearm in a gesture of friendship. “We’ve been waiting for you-- quite eagerly, in fact!”

From where she stands, she can’t see Ben’s expression. But he returns the gesture. “Riiken, I assume?”

“I am humbled that a man of your stature remembers, but yes!”

Rey fights to stop her expression. This was too warm a reception for the simple cover of interested buyer. She files the name “Thracken” for later.

Ben only makes a derisive sound. “I trust the shipment is prepared.”

“Of course,” Riiken’s gaze flits to Rey. In the gesture, she sees him instantly scan her for weapons, eyes resting on her hip for a second longer. It’s an expertly fast assessment. Rey makes a concentrated effort to mask both hers and Ben’s Force sensitivity.

After a moment, it appears that she passes. Riiken smiles. “We were unaware that you would be bringing a guest.”

Slowly, with careful control, Ben shrugs. “My assistant. She’ll be handling verification and transfer.”

Transfer, Rey assumes is for the credits, verification for serial numbers on the weapons.

“Of course, of course,” Riiken states. He steps to the side, arm beckoning to them. “Please, come and see what our dealer has set up. My client is only too happy to cut our shipment in half to fund your efforts on Corellia. As you know, we could use friends in Coronet.”

Corellia? This, along with the name Thracken, is also saved for later. Coronet, the planet’s capital, was a well-known spaceport.

Ben gives a tense nod. And the two of them walk forward, following a member of the Black Suns into an unknown warehouse.

\--

The warehouse itself is non-descript, which Rey supposes is the point. Its large, industrial architecture is not corroded, however, which speaks to money in this part of the city. Durasteel and duracrete more than likely-- a few steps above the cheap materials of the buildings they saw earlier. Aside from that, the only thing of significance is the small waterway entry in addition to the docking bay-- a few, silver speeders in place that easily blend with the tint of the water. Smuggling runners, most likely.

She quickly cases the surroundings. There’s four exits in total: the docking bay for freighters, the runners, and two windows on the third or fourth story, placed on opposite sides of the building. There is ample cover if a firefight should start-- hundreds of shipping crates align the walls. Mechanical cranes picking them up and depositing them on various freighters as they arrive.

In the center of it all, where Riiken is directing them, is the man Rey recognizes as Moab Ken. He’s a little more weathered than in the holo, a large, grizzled scar accompanies what looks like a new cybernetic eye. In his hands is a large datapad that she only assumes is a trade manifest. He looks far more interested in it than them.

“We know this is hardly impressive compared to what you’ve seen,” Riiken states as he walks them further into the warehouse. Further away from the waterway exit. “But we’ve made a steady income, dealing from a place like Kepler.” He jabs a playful elbow into Ben’s side. “After all, no Jedi, right?”

Rey watches as he pulls on the persona she recognizes from her first appearance on Naboo. The storm on the landing tarmac. “It is part of the appeal.”

“Meddlesome,” Riiken agrees. “But proven to be a problem we can deal with if it comes up.”

Rey frowns, hiding the motion by lifting the datapad and staring down at it in false attention.

“Hm,” Ben says dispassionately, arms folded once again behind his back. Logically, Rey knows he’s a politician, and by nature this is what he does. But part of her--the part that punched a man and blew her cover-- bristles at his nonchalant response, though she’s careful to hide it.

“Ah, our main dealer,” Riiken introduces, as they walk to stand next to Moab Ken. He looks completely bored and uninterested, not bothering to look up from his trade manifest.

Rey sees that he has a heavy blaster, light blaster, vibroblade, and a string of compact thermal detonators. She absently hits a few keys on her datapad, knowing they don’t do anything.

“Moab Ken,” Riiken says in an oily voice, “Thracken Sal-Solo.”

 _-Solo_?

Moab Ken still doesn’t turn from his manifest’s screen. “Who’s the girl?”

“My assistant,” Ben says flatly.

Moab Ken snorts. “Little young for an assistant.”

She catches something in his tone she doesn’t like. Ben, also, flares slightly in the Force with annoyance.

“She’s none of your concern,” he says, clipped.

“Please forgive his manners,” Riiken states. “One can hardly expect them in a mercenary, after all.”

“I expect more from business associates.” She recognizes this tone. It’s the same one Ben uses with Han. Though slightly colder.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Riiken is near stumbling over his words and Rey wonders just who Thracken Sal-Solo from Corellia is. “Moab Ken, the shipment’s number, please.”

“Boss wants to see them,” he grunts, keying in a few more things into the trade manifest.

Riiken pales. An admirable feat, considering his naturally chalky skin tone. “This...I wasn’t told-”

“Surprise visit.” Moab finally looks up from his screen. “He’s _very_ interested in the Coronet branch.”

Rey senses Ben’s hesitation, an uncertainty about what to do next. Quickly, she thinks through the situation. This is going off script, but they have the tracker and knowing who the ‘boss’ was could be useful in further uncovering the assassination attempt. And so, she makes a decision.

“Sir,” she says in her best Assistant Voice, “We have a few hours clear from your schedule.”

Short enough for them to retreat if they need to. Long enough to see what they can learn from this boss.

Ben takes another moment before grunting in affirmation, every inch the disdainful arms buyer. “Very well, Iella.”

“Ah, Iella!” Riiken says cheerfully, clearly over-compensating for Moab Ken’s misstep. “Beautiful name.”

Rey sends him a look that could freeze fire.

“Achem,” Riiken says, gesturing toward a ship. “I’m afraid we need to a few more miles outside of lowtown. I assure you it’s worth your _valuable_ time.”

Rey tenses. A secondary location was _never_ a good idea.

“It better be,” is Ben’s only response.

“If you’ll follow me,” Riiken says with a smile.

They do, to one of the runners. Rey hops in first, offering Ben a hand to step in. He takes it, steps in calmly. Riiken moves to the driver’s seat.

“Only a moment,” he chirps.

Ben settles and Rey takes the place closest to him, her arm brushing his and her hand in the space between them. He sends her a look of concern, and she manages a barely perceptible nod.

 _We’ve got this,_ she thinks.

Discreetly, one of Ben’s hands moves to the same space between them. He rests his pinkie over hers as the runner speeds off into the night.

\--

Rey doesn’t know what she was expecting, but she’s still thrown by what awaits them when the runner powers down. The small watercraft had entered through an overhead tunnel, so it was impossible to see the external elements of their destination. Instead, they run through several security checks (her blaster, as well as her datapad, is confiscated with a promise of being returned after they leave), and pull up to an unremarkable dock, its flooring the metal grate of the rest of lowtown.

Riiken powers down the runner, still smiling that salvage-dealer smile. “Ah, here we are. Modest, of course, by your standards, Thracken. But it is only a pleasure home."

Ben says nothing, and in a breach of character, he exits the runner first. He extends his hand to Rey and she reluctantly takes it. Riiken appears not to notice, as he walks past the dock and into what assumes Rey is the interior of the building. Despite his cheerful demeanor, she senses nerves begin to bind around Riiken. He’s not just afraid, he’s terrified.

 _Careful,_ she thinks. _We need to be careful._

“Please, after you.” Riiken directs them to a repulsor lift.

Ben and Rey step to the back of it, allowing Riiken to punch in an access code. Rey watches his fingers carefully, memorizing it for later. The lift starts, and begins to rise. With Riiken’s back to them, Rey sneaks a quick look to Ben to see him already watching her.

She manages a smile she doesn’t feel, but as the lift rises, the expression falls.

Her senses and connection to the Force is cloaked, and therefore muted. But whatever it is beyond the doors of the lift makes something crawl under her skin. Makes her body feel cold.

She feels Ben’s concern, but it becomes an afterthought as the feeling increases. Her brows make a small ‘v’ between them. The cold intensifies, reminding her of the dark emptiness of space.

The doors open.

“Here we are!” Riiken exits first, and over his shoulders Rey takes in the scene before her.

It’s a casino, of some kind. Not something rich and pleasant like Cantonica’s, but full of tacky neon lights and displays. The air is thick with cigarra smoke, all of it curling around the overhead lights, and there’s a strong smell of sweat. She hears snarling and growling in the distance and knows there’s an illegal kath fight happening.

But all this is regular criminal activity. It’s not what troubles her. It’s not the cold, dark _thing._

“What is it?” Ben asks under his breath. From his tone, she can tell he feels it too.

“Remember the forest trick?” She manages, in case someone is listening.

“Yes.”

“Use it. As strong as you can.”

“...why?”

Her answer comes soon enough. Riiken excuses himself with a bow and a quick retreat to the cantina. In his place emerge two escorts.

They seem normal enough: a man and a woman around Ben’s age. They wear slightly more expensive uniforms than Riiken, still in that royal blue color with the Black Suns insignia. They introduce themselves with names Rey can’t catch, sweat starting to bead on the back of her neck.

“Welcome to Moonrunners,” the woman says with a saccharine smile. “Nils is excited to meet you.”

Ben sends her a look only she detects as worried, and slowly follows after them.

Rey lags behind for just a second longer, making sure her trembling hands steady on the datapad before she walks toward what appears to be a backroom. For a brief moment, she thinks about grabbing Ben and making the fastest retreat to the runner.

Because these two escorts are undeniably experienced practitioners of the Dark Side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- [Thrackan Sal-Solo](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Thrackan_Sal-Solo) is an EU/Legends cousin of Han who definitely exists in this 'verse because it's fun :B 
> 
> -Rey's codename is from an EU/Legends Rebel spy [ of the same name!](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Iella_Wessiri_Antilles)


	22. Chapter 22

**30 ABY** **  
** **\--**

There are rituals for the trials. The first is that the morning is to be spent in solitude, hours allowed for the Padawan to surrender to contemplation. To center themselves.

Rey lasts about 20 minutes before she’s running to find Anakin. They meet in the middle of the hall, which is somewhat of a surprise: the Master of the sponsored Padawan is also meant to be in solitary reflection. 

“You’re supposed to be meditating,” he says crossly.

“So are you.”

Anakin sighs, frowns. “Garage?”

“Garage.”

\--

When Master and Padawan present themselves to the High Council, they are both covered in oil and grease. 

“Well, meditation went?” Yoda asks in such a flat tone it’s hard to tell if he’s annoyed or amused.

“Already breaking the traditions,” Phasma says coldly. “A promising start.”

“The traditions are boring,” Anakin says, hand on her shoulder not unlike during her Padawan ceremony. “An hour repairing an ion filtration unit is worth four in meditation.”

Rey looks at the faces of the High Council. Unless in dire circumstances, all twelve members are present for the trials-- whether they be for Knighthood or Mastership. Anakin, as her Master, would not participate in her evaluation, but was allowed to be present. Her eyes naturally go to the center of the circle, where Obi Wan used to sit, and the legendary battlemaster Mace Windu before him. 

Now, Kyp Durron tries to pick something out of his teeth. 

To his right is Anakin’s empty seat. Then Saba Sebatyne, Phasma. Shaak Ti, Yoda. Corran Horn, Aayla Secura. Cilghal, Tionne. The holoprojected figures of Kit Fisto and Lor San Tekka occupy their regular places.

This is the first time Rey has seen them all in one place.

“Don’t worry,” Anakin says lowly, so only she can hear. “You’ll do fine. After all…” he grins. “You had a good Master.”

She nods, but can’t stop feeling intimidated. Nervous, even. 

“So, uh. I guess I run this now.” Kyp leans forward, elbows on his knees. He makes a big click noise as whatever was in his tooth dislodges. For some reason, the blatant nonchalance makes her feel better. Something she would later realize was intended, as he gives her a short wink before taking on a more formal tone:

“Master Anakin Skywalker, the Council has decided your padawan is fit to stand the trials. Do you sponsor her?”

“I do.”

“Padawan Rey, do you submit to the Council’s judgment?”

Anakin discretely nudges her. She remembers to breathe.

“I...yes.”

Kyp sends her an indecipherable look, but continues. “There will be five tests: Skill, Insight, Courage, Flesh, and Spirit. We will begin with the simplest and most straightforward, Skill. Are you prepared?”

Rey tries to muster all the confidence she can. Tilts her head up. “Yes.”

Kyp nods, sitting straighter in his char. “Great. Let’s get going.”

Anakin gives her shoulder a last reassuring squeeze. 

And then she is on her own.

\--  
_ Day One: Skill. _ _   
_ _ \-- _ __   


The first trial restores her confidence. Like Kyp said, it is simple and straightforward. First she is tested on levitation, making objects fly into specific targets or goals. As she progresses, the objects become more difficult-- some are heavier, others, like the lothcat, have their own wills. But she passes them all with ease, even manages to smile as she lifts a shuttle craft into the air, and spins it around.

She is oblivious to the proud look on Anakin’s face, the stern one on Kyp’s. The rest of the Council is carefully neutral, but they share concerned glances. 

After levitation comes acrobatics. In this, Rey uses the standard course set up millennia ago: she jumps, pulls, pushes her body with the Force. Clears it in near-record time for her generation (Finn has her beat by 2 seconds, Tenel Ka Djo by 5). 

Then lightsaber drills. She deflects blaster bolts, spars with armed droids and simulated opponents. 

When she’s done, her tunic is soaked with sweat and her hair is plastered to her hair and neck. But her hands are on her thighs and she’s looking up at the Council with elation. This test, she knows she passed.

“One down,” is all Kyp says with a shrug.

\--

That night, Anakin sneaks her some fermented bantha milk. They drink the alcoholic beverage, recounting the trials. When she asks Anakin about his own, he only shrugs.

“Didn’t have to.”

“What do you mean,  _ didn’t have to _ ?” 

He stretches out his back. “There was a war going on. All us padawans had expedited trials by combat.”

“You mean, against the Separatists?” She says, eyes wide. Anakin never talked about the war. 

“And the Sith.” He stares down into his drink, looking sad for some reason.

“Is it true what they say?” She asks, curious. “That the Jedi used clones?”

“It’s true,” he confirms.

“Where are they now?”

Anakin scratches the side of his face. “The original generation is dead. As did the second. The Jedi didn’t seek to produce a third.” When he sees her trying to parse out the math, he gives a wane smile. “They were genetically engineered to reach maturity faster. It took its toll.”

Rey frowns. “If that’s true...why would the Jedi do such a thing?”

“Because they were desperate,” he says. “But the clones...they were good men. Good people. While we had them.”

Rey brings a knee to her chest. They’re sitting on the grand steps of the temple. “...What were the Sith like?”

Anakin seems to be far away. Then he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Rey’s not used to having her Master lie to her. But the look on his face asks her not to pry further, and so she doesn’t. Instead, she pours him more milk, and he shoots her a wane, grateful smile in return.

\--   
_ Day Two: Trial of Insight _ _   
_ _ \-- _

“Just so you know,” Kyp says, “We know you’re going to fail this one.”

The hologrammed figure of Corran Horn sends him a look of distinct disapproval. Which Kyp ignores.

“It’s not the point to get it right. No one’s gotten it right. Not even me.” Kyp steeples his fingers, staring at Rey where she stands in the middle of the Council chamber. Today, Anakin is seated in his regular position, although he will once again not be casting a vote.

“Hmm,” Yoda says, giving a small nod. “Try to enter my mind, you must.”

Rey’s eyes go wide. “ _ What _ ?”

Kyp raises a hand. “The Trial of Insight tests your mental fortitude and ability. For the Jedi, this means Will. There is no stronger test than to try and reach into someone’s mind. Nor one so difficult.” He smirks. “I would know.”

It was no secret in the Order that Kyp had mastered the ability to wipe memories, a unique and dangerous talent.

“Yoda is the strongest mind we have,” Kyp continues without ego. “He’s memorized a code. It’s your job to find it in his thoughts. The more pieces of code you retrieve, the greater your score.” 

He raises her brows. “Again, no one’s retrieved all of it. The record is held by yours truly, at five pieces.” He tilts his head in challenge. “Beat it, and I’ll personally buy you a new swoop.”

_ That  _ is strong motivation.

“Start, we will,” Yoda interjects. “Calm your mind, Rey, and begin.”

Thinking of her new swoop, Rey closes her eyes, extends her hand. The Council, aside from Anakin, all shift into more obviously comfortable sitting positions--the expectation that they will be waiting awhile. 

Her brows crease into a small v, and she inhales. Then:

“Ship. Cup-”

Several Council members tense. Anakin’s expression does not change-- unsurprised, unconcerned.

“Rancor. Dice-”

Kyp sends Anakin a long, hard look. “What in the Sithspawn is this, Skywalker?”

Anakin smiles. “Talent.”

Rey doesn’t hear the conversations unfolding around her. All she focuses on is the threads surrounding Master Yoda, pulling them apart. “Stone. Onasus. Fountain. Sunset-”

“Yoda, how is she doing this?” Phasma demands behind a tight jaw. 

The former Grand Master does not respond, his expression strained and his own hand extended.

“Grass. Sky. Life. Death. Darkness. Light. Balance-” Rey gives a small grunt, pushing to what she knows is the last piece. “Power.”

She opens her eyes. Across from her, Yoda sags in his chair. 

“Dishonesty at the trials warrants severe punishment,” is all Shaak Ti says, the ancient Togruta folding her hands. 

“Falsehood, this was not,” Yoda says between pants.

Rey feels uncertainty hit her, oblivious to what transpired during her trance. What significance it held. “What is it? Did I do it wrong?”

“No,” Anakin says with a smile. “You did it right.”

She looks, bright-eyed, to Kyp. “Then I get a swoop?”

He only pinches the bridge of his nose, letting go of a long, long sigh.

\--

There is a day off between her second and third trial, so the Council can deliberate. Rey doesn’t know what they have to talk about, if she got all of Yoda’s code right. She also knows this is unusual.

She stands outside, listening even though she suspects she’s not allowed. She hears too many voices to make anything out. All she knows is she hears Kyp shouting, Anakin shouting back. 

Rey doesn’t understand. She thought she did well.

\--   
_ Day Four: Courage (and Flesh)  
_ \--

The artificial sun isn’t even powered when she feels a metallic hand on her shoulder.

Rey rolls over, struggling to fight the sleep that’s begging her to return to her sleeping pallet. “Anakin?”

“It’s time to get up,” he says, looking grim. “C’mon.”

Rey blinks, pushing herself up. Her hair is in a messy cloud around her head and shoulders, she’s in her sleeping clothes. Her lightsaber sits on the opposite corner of the room with her boots and her official robes. 

“What’s going on?”

“The Council wants you to face your next trial.”

This doesn’t feel right. “ _ Now _ ?”

Anakin gives a short nod. 

Rey scowls, not liking this, but knows better than to argue. She pulls back her blanket, swinging her legs off the side of her bed. “I’ll grab my lightsaber and we’ll go.”

“No lightsaber.”

She feels something crawl down her spine at the statement. “What?”

Anakin, she realizes, doesn’t look grim. He’s  _ furious.  _

Hesitantly, she reaches over and tugs on the sleeve of his robe. “What’s going on?”

He looks, for a moment, like he’s going to tell her. But then he just shakes his head.

“If we’re late, you’re disqualified.”

Dazed, and a little afraid, she follows after him.

\--

As soon as Rey turns to follow Anakin into the hall, something shifts. The first thing she notices is the air. The further she walks through the temple, the dryer and thinner it feels. There is something visceral about what she smells-- it makes her think of cantinas and someone she used to call  _ buir _ . At the memory of her father, someone she hasn’t thought about in years, she staggers. When she does, the toes of her bare feet connect with something softer than the stone flooring. Something that gives.Sand. 

Is she… on Jakku? 

Another step, and the temple falls away completely. Instead there’s a bright, blinding white light. She draws a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, and is thrown when another light source still makes vision difficult. Two suns?

The wind starts next, whipping around her and burning her skin. She feels the grains of sand hitting her, getting into her nose and eyes and mouth and hair. If this is not Jakku, it certainly feels like it. She is in only a tank top and shorts, not enough to protect her from the sun, and with no weapon or gear. How did she get here? She can’t remember.

“Hey miss,” comes a voice from behind her.

Rey pivots, stumbling a little at it. She manages to stop her fall by catching her front with one of her hands, pushing back up. 

And meets the bright blue gaze of a little boy.

He has blond hair, cut in a straight line around his head--she’d seen such haircuts outside the temple, the kind mothers did for their children themselves. He wears light linens and wrappings, far more prepared for what feels like an incoming sandstorm. Around his shoulders is a small, black pack. Like he’s going somewhere.

“Who’re you?” Rey asks, her throat already feeling dry. 

The boy, who can’t be older than the younglings, arches his brows. “Shouldn’t I be asking  _ you  _ that?” He sends her a skeptical once over. “You’re going to die wearing that in the desert.” His eyes land on her feet. “Where are your  _ shoes _ ?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a frown, trying to remember. “I don’t know how I got here.”

“You can come with me,” he says, grinning in a way that makes her smile back. “I’m going to become a Jedi.”

The word snags. Jedi. She’s a-

Eyes widening, Rey reaches over her shoulder and pats the space between her shoulder blades. There is no holster, no comforting metal weight. 

“I think I’m missing something,” she manages after a moment.

“Yeah,” says the boy, rolling his eyes. “Your shoes.”

She doesn’t pout at him, exactly, when she sighs. “I don’t know where to get any.”

The boy beckons her forward with a large sweep of his arm. “C’mon. My friends got to have some.”

“Friends? Out  _ here _ ?”

“They’re just visiting. Don’t worry, we’ll be out of the desert in no time.”

The boy starts to run ahead. Not knowing what else to do, Rey follows after.

\--

Outside of the vision, the Council observes Rey where she lays in the center of the room, deep in a trance. They all wisely give Master Skywalker his space. For he sits with his elbows resting on his knees, hands folded before his mouth, and raw anger radiating from him.

Kyp Durron gives off a similar, though more muted, aura. His eyes find Phasma in the Council’s circle and glare. She looks back coldly. 

“The trials always involve Force visions,” she says at his unspoken accusation. 

“Not at this stage,” he counters. One of his brows raise. “And not unarmed.”

Anakin speaks for the first time since storming into the room. His tone is dark. “But you helped plant this illusion, didn’t you?” 

Kyp sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I planted the illusion.”

In front of them, Rey is motionless.

“C’mon, kid,” the leader of the Jedi Order mutters. “Don’t let me down.”

\--

They run for what feels like hours. Rey’s skin is sunburned and throbbing, her lips chapped and her throat raw. The soles of her feet are burned as well, aching with every step.

“Where are we going?” She yells over the wind. One of her knees sinks into a dune, and she pulls it out with a struggle.

“Almost there!” The boy calls back over his shoulder.

It’s getting harder and harder to see him. The sand is kicking up, the wind moving faster and faster. She can’t remember her childhood clearly, doesn’t know if this is about to become something worse. But she trudges on, keeping her eyes targeted on his small black backpack, something that breaks the monotonous beiges and whites of the desert.

After a moment, and a particularly bad gust that makes her slip sideways, the backpack disappears.

“Hey!” She calls out. 

Nothing answers her.

“Oi!” She yells again, more desperate. “I can’t see you!” 

She turns. Turns again. She can see nothing but the sand, flying into the air in faster and faster spirals. 

“Hey!” She feels panic begin to rise up in her throat, already raw. She hears the strain in her voice as she tries to call out. “Boy!” 

There’s only the sound of sand and wind in her ears. Her skin is flaring in agony, burned and now being subjected to the harsher elements. Her whole body feels weak as the sandstorm beats at her, and Rey sinks to her knees. She covers her face by bringing her arms in front of it and pressing her elbows together.

It occurs to her that she really  _ is  _ going to die here. A frustrated sob escapes her lips.

She calls out for her father, sounding very much like a child again.

\--

“ _ Buir _ -!”

The second Rey mutters the word, breaking through the trance, Anakin Skywalker stands. He leaves the room like an angry force of nature, not looking at any of the Masters.

The sound of the chamber being thrown open by the Force echoes throughout the room. 

Kyp drags a hand down his face, feeling older than his thirty-eight years. “Phasma, get the door, will you?”

She hesitates.

“The  _ doors,  _ Phasma.”

\--

The sand is building up around her. She feels herself sinking into it, letting herself be buried. It covers her kneeling legs, then her hips, her arms. It’s rising up over her chin, about to suffocate her, when she hears something break the despair she’s drowning in.

“REY!” Screams the little boy. “ _ HELP!”  _

At his voice, something sparks in her, reigniting the candle about to go out. She may not know how she got here, or why, but she  _ knows  _ that boy. Knows he needs her to protect him. 

With a gasp, catching all the air she had just allowed herself to lose, Rey’s arm punches out of the sand. She pulls herself up. Starts to run. 

Her eyes are burning, and unable to see with the grit, she closes them. Rey opens her senses, lets the Force direct her. Gradually, as she runs, she escapes the storm. It settles, becoming a flatter surface. The wind stops. Once she feels it safe, she opens her eyes.

The first thing she sees is the boy. He’s in a half-seat on his back, as though he’s trying to recover from being shoved. His small feet dig their heels into the ground in an attempt to push him backward. He looks at her and there’s raw fear on his face.

In front of him stands a figure in black. Its back is to her, a hood further hiding their features.

“Leave him alone,” she manages, voice still raspy. 

The figure turns. Slowly pulls back its hood.

Rey is fifteen, burned and beaten, with no weapon. But she stares down Darth Maul and firmly plants her feet as his lightsaber punches into one red light, then two.

\--

Just outside the chamber, Anakin closes his eyes and rests the back of his head against the wall.

\--

Rey knows who he is. She’s heard the stories about Obi Wan’s master, Qui Gon. Knows how he died. Once, her and Finn broke into the holocrons on a dare, and she saw his face. 

She swallows. Darth Maul’s red and yellow stare trains on her.

“Don’t hurt him,” she tries to say like a command. Her eyes dart to the boy, who’s watching them with a fearful expression, back to Maul. 

He’s walking slowly toward her. Not in a rush. Rey feels her ears beat with blood. As he gets closer, she kneels down and her hand scrambles. Her fingers grip a rock. 

Maul takes another step forward. The low buzz of his lightsaber is clear in her ears.

Rey throws the rock with all her strength. The Sith bats it away like a child’s toy. It drops in halves, edged with the molten glow of being partially melted by Maul’s weapon--so much like her own.

He steps closer. She can feel her shoulders shake, but she fights past it to tilt her chin up in defiance. Maul looks down at her, head slightly tilted as though she is an enigma, something of mild interest that won’t stop him from killing it.

“Jedi,” he finally settles on.

Rey looks past him. The boy is starting to pick himself up.

“Surrender now,” Maul says in a measured tone. “And I’ll let you live.”

She glances up into his eyes defiantly. “What about him?”

Maul stares at the boy dispassionately. “He must die.” 

Rey doesn’t think to use the Force. All she can do is stare into that hateful gaze, her whole body seized with terror. 

“Are you afraid?” Maul asks. He swings his arm up-- she can feel the heat of the lightsaber as it moves into striking position.

“Yes,” she manages.

“Then move.”

Rey closes her eyes. Braces herself for what’s next.  “No.”

There’s the quick sound of it descending-- a kshhh and a wave of heat on her face-- and she thinks about Anakin and Obi Wan and Finn and a little girl with three buns in her hair and no braid, who just wanted to go home-

\--

Rey comes to with a huge gasp, her head snapping up and her limbs trying to push her back from an attack that didn’t land. Doesn’t exist.

She doesn’t know where she is, for a moment. She’s panting and her skin is drenched in sweat. Adrenaline floods her senses, then almost immediately begins to make her body crash. 

There’s the voice of Kyp Durron:

“That counts for two.”

An accent she recognizes as Phasma’s. “Hardly orthodox-”

“ _ That,"  _ Kyp says with finality, “counts for two.”

Rey collapses against the floor, unconscious.

\--

That night, it feels as though she’s in and out of focus. She’s on her pallet when she feels something cool and wet drape across her forehead-- a cloth. 

“They never should have done it,” Anakin says above her.

Rey’s able to crack open her eyes enough to see him. He’s sitting on the edge of her pallet, in civilian clothing. His face is in profile, as he glares out her viewport. 

“They did it only because they were afraid. Because of your power.” he continues, jaw clenching. “Just like-!”

He barely stops himself. 

“Just like who?” Rey manages. Her body, though not physically harmed, feels as though it’s been left out in the sun to die.

Anakin’s hands make fists on top of his thighs. For a moment, she genuinely thinks he’s about to tell her. But something steels him, and she watches him close whatever old wound this is. 

“An old friend,” is what he finally offers.

She can feel her consciousness starting to slide away, but she forces it at bay long enough to ask. “Is he alright?”

“No, he was-”

“The boy,” she clarifies. One of her hands reaches out, tugs weakly at his sleeve. “Is the boy alright?”

“Yes.” Anakin’s shoulders slump. His body slowly releases tension. One of his veined, calloused hands rest over her own. “The boy is fine.”

She nods, satisfied, and lets her body and mind drift away.

_ \-- _ _   
_ _ Day Five: Spirit  
_ __ \--

The next morning, Rey stands once again in her padawan robes in the center of the chamber. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her body is still feeling the drain of the sun, but there’s a sense of calm within her that she doesn’t remember having. 

Kyp, too, has dark circles under his eyes. “I want you to know something before we begin.”

Corran scowls. “Durron-”

“The Council has decided that if you should pass your trials, you will receive additional training after earning Knighthood.”

“What?” She asks just a second before Anakin demands: “Explain!”

Rey’s cheeks burn. No one, after Knighthood, was expected to still be a student. What had she done? What was so wrong about her trials that they had been stopped? That they didn’t want her to be on her own?

Kyp raises a hand. “She broke Yoda’s shields, Anakin,” he says carefully. There’s an edge to his words. “You and me, of all people, should understand what it means to have that kind of power unchecked.”

Anakin tenses. Rey waits for him to yell, to have an outburst, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, he feels...cold in the Force.

“That’s what I thought,” Kyp continues. “Rey, if you pass, you’ll train with me.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he cuts her off. “ _ Not  _ as my padawan. You would be a full Knight.” For a moment he looks almost bitter. “Instead, think of it as...specialist training. Something outside the typical demands of the Order.”

She frowns. He watches her with his level, green stare. 

“Those are the terms,” he says. And when he asks the next question, it’s directed solely to Rey instead of her and Anakin. “Do you want to continue?”

She wants to look at Anakin, see what he thinks. But she understands what this question is. It’s her first step on her own, her first choice as an adult in the eyes of the Council. Anakin seems to realize this as well, as he stands silent.

Rey rolls her shoulders back. “Okay.”

Relief passes over Kyp’s face. “Okay,” he echoes. “Then let’s begin your last trial.”

\--

The trial of the Spirit is infamous for being the one most padawans fail. Even Knights going for Masterhood do not always triumph. Rey’s heard the rumors -- about facing down whatever it is that’s darkest in you. Finn still wouldn’t talk about what it was he saw. No one did. And it was an unspoken rule that you didn’t ask. Even Masters to their padawans.

It takes Rey nearly a full day of meditation to center herself enough. She, and the Council, sit in the room in a shared trance, the elders using their connections to the Force to bring Rey deeper into hers. She’s a siphon of energy, and soon it all begins to fall away-- the low light from the sunset, the presence of the Council. Anakin’s steady breathing. 

It’s just her.

\--

It’s night on Coruscant, and unusually quiet. Rey is in her typical robes, the lightsaber a comfortable weight on her back. She doesn’t remember why she felt the need to step outside to the grand stairs that lead up to the temple, but somehow she has. The statues of famous Jedi stand tall overhead like guardians, framing the long entrance from the landing pad to the inner sanctum. After a moment, she sits on the same steps she and Anakin had bantha milk. It feels like forever ago. 

Rey rests an elbow on her knee, using it to cradle her chin in her hand. Something is coming, and she knows she has to wait for it.

\--

It starts with the sound of footsteps. They startle her from where she’s nearly dozed off. Taps, like music notes, fall in perfect time-- left, right, left. Rey frowns, dropping her hand from under her chin to stare out at the darkness of the Coruscant skyline. 

The taps get louder. Begin to sound like stomps. Hundreds of them. Left, right, left.

Slowly, she stands. Part of her still doesn’t understand what’s happening. Doesn’t want to understand.

Over the horizon, there’s the top of a dark hood. Rey frowns. The hood becomes a shadowed face, the body of a Jedi.

She relaxes. Another Jedi-

After the Jedi come helmets. Left, right, left. The helmets become soldiers, in armor she doesn’t recognize. They’re holding blasters.

They’re…

They’re an  _ army _ .

Panic washes over her, and Rey ignites her lightsaber. One end flares blue, than the other. Without giving her time to run, or call for help, the soldiers begin shooting. Rey extends her lightsaber in front of her, moving the ends back and forth as quickly as she can to deflect the shots. But there’s too many. After less than thirty seconds, she feels herself begin to slow. One bolt clips her arm, carving a groove into her bicep.

The leader of the army continues to walk forward. She gives out a primal scream as she extends her arm and Force shoves the attackers. It moves like an invisible catapult, several bodies flying into the air. But for everyone of them she defeats, two more arrive. It’s an endless wave, a sea of white armor.

“What are you doing?!” She screams at the leader. 

He approaches, and she sees his face.

“You,” she whispers, guard dropping. “Why would you-?”

She should strike him. The Jedi do not kill, but the Jedi’s role is to defend the helpless above all else. There are other, unaware Jedi behind her. Younglings. If she doesn’t stop this person in front of her, he’ll kill them. She knows this. He’ll kill them all. 

She needs to kill him first. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what she must do.

He doesn’t look at her. He walks forward, about to pass her by-

“Anakin,” she whispers.

He stops. Turns. The hood does not fall. 

Rey can feel tears staining her cheeks. “Why would you do this?”

The figure who is, and is not, her Master doesn’t say anything. 

“We’re your family!” She screams. Because she can’t kill him. She  _ can’t.  _

Before she can do the right thing and protect the temple, he moves forward. Like the sands, she hears the ksh. Unlike the sands, she feels it when Anakin ignites his lightsaber. When it strikes her, the blade blue. When it exits from her back, the blade red.

\--   


When she comes to, it’s not with the same adrenaline crash as the previous trial. She knows what’s happened. Knows what it was she couldn’t to do in this false world within her.

“Did I fail?” Rey asks after a few minutes, gaze trained firmly on the floor in front of her. 

She can’t look at the man sitting in front of her, and so she doesn’t see the expression of concern on his face. Unlike the other trials, Spirit was private. No one else saw what she did.

Yoda closes his eyes. Lets out a soft  _ hmm.  _ “Learn did you, young Rey?”

She is drained. More exhausted than she’s ever felt in her life. Ending these trials doesn’t feel like victory. 

“Yes,” she admits.

“Then pass, you have.”

\--

When Anakin ignites his lightsaber to cut off her padawan braid, Rey does her best not to flinch.

It would hurt him, if he ever learned about the selfish choice she made.  
It would hurt him, if she flinched.

**\--** **  
** **34 ABY** **  
** **\--**

One of the escorts keeps staring at her. Rey does her best to ignore it. She keeps her gaze trained dead ahead and tries to keep her expression as neutral as possible. The truth in it, however, is that there’s no way for her to be neutral. Her entire body feels like it’s pinned, and the only way to escape the trap is to go limp. Ben radiates aggravation, which fortunately works for their cover. Rey suspects that his anger might pass as impatience, as they stand outside the office door for this Nils. The female escort having gone in to "prepare for their arrival"-- a phrasing that set Rey even further on edge.

“I know you,” the staring escort finally mutters. He’s older, probably around Kyp’s age, and like Kyp, has shots of grey in the hair at his temples. He’s watching her with narrowed eyes. “Where do I know you from?” 

She focuses on the door. As discreetly as possible, she tries to read him in the Force. His abilities are comparable to that of a Knight’s, at the very least. Rey withdraws before she overstays her welcome. While she could, and would, be able to manipulate memories...it took time. Time they didn’t have, if this was a trap.

She hopes it isn’t a trap.

“Hey, girl-!”

“Is there a reason you’re harassing my staff?” Ben suddenly snarls. 

Their escort sends him a dark look, but dutifully retreats. Whoever this Nils is, he’s got a strong sway over his people. And with two of them having this much presence in the Force…

They stand in silence for a second longer.

“Mara!” He proclaims, a name Rey has never heard before. “You know a Mara Ja-?”

The door slides open. The woman from before, all sleek edges and ink-black hair, gives them a nod and a smile. 

“Nils will see you now.”

The office they walk into instantly gives her a headache. Much like the distribution center, it is almost entirely white with a few chromatic details-- a laughable difference from the seedy casino they had just crossed. The floor is white as well, polished to almost a mirror shine as they step into the room. The only thing that breaks the monochromatic is a series of three paintings on the far side of the office. Portraits of some kind.

In the center of the space, there’s a solitary desk. It consists of only a thin sheet of glass, the top scrolling and projecting much like a console. 

Behind the desk stands a man who must be Nils. 

He is tall, she notices. Taller than Ben. He’s wearing a loose but tailored white suit with a tunic-like collar. One of his hands has a few series of stacked, chromatic rings. The other has a white glove that covers his fingers and the top half of his palm. In it, is a slowly burning cigarra. 

He looks up at their arrival. Smiles with teeth, his canines pronounced and capped in silver plating.

Rey notices that the two escorts immediately move to stand behind her. Blocking the exit. Centering her nerves, she tries to get a read on Nils. He gives off the signature of someone who’s not Force sensitive, which makes her feel somewhat relieved. Not much. But somewhat.

“Ah, you must be Thrackan,” he says. Rey takes a moment to try and place the accent, and settles on Hapan. Perhaps one of the outer Consortium planets. “I’m sure my associates in lowtown expressed how eager I am to meet you.”

“Hopefully enough to compensate for my time.”

The man points his cigarra at him. “A direct man. I can appreciate that.”

Nils’ eyes slide to her, just briefly. Rey doesn’t have enough time to get a read on the nature of the stare before he’s turned his attention entirely back to Ben. “But as a host, I’m afraid I have to insist upon a drink while we discuss business.”

He gestures to the other side of the desk. A round, uncomfortable looking chair arises. Pointedly only one. Ben doesn’t break character, striding to his seat-- even if it is with a scowl. Rey does what she imagines an assistant would do, and hugs the wall. Out of sight, out of mind. That was the goal. 

One that is thwarted by the man who was staring at her earlier sliding into place on her left. When he does, she notices Ben’s grip tighten on the armrests. His dark presence in the Force makes her feel almost sick. 

Nils pours something from a decanter that arises from a hidden panel. The liquor is burgundy in color--an almost assaulting splash of color in the minimalist space. Rey watches it as Nils pours effortlessly and spotless into a small cup. Something about it snags at her senses. Not as strongly as the soup from the state dinner, but enough to make her uneasy. 

_ Don’t drink,  _ she thinks.

And is surprised when she hears Ben in return.  _ Wasn’t planning on it. _

Rey’s eyes widen just a little before she can hide it. Feelings, suggestions were common ways to communicate in the Force. But words?

“So,” Nils says, “A little about me.” He takes the seat across from Ben, folding one leg over the other in a slow, affected motion. “Hapan, born and raised.”

Rey wants to roll her eyes, but then Ben asks a pointed question that almost makes her laugh.

He swirls the burgundy drink slowly. “Which planet?”

Nils’ expression does not change, but he does pause before answering. “Lovola.”

She knew the name. One of the Rifle Worlds, planets that had an economy based in industrial work, primarily mining and droid manufacturing plants. It was infamous as a planet that attempted to secede from the main cluster. 

It was also where Anakin had received his mortal injury. During a failed military coup by industrialists.

Rey tries to bury her anger, but she knows she’s not successful as she stares at the man in white.  _ Were you part of it? Did you pull the trigger? _

Ben’s concern is palpable.  _ What is it _ ?

She can’t answer him. Instead she just seethes, barely contained fury. She misses whatever Nils discusses next, her arms shaking. The man beside her notices, but she can’t bring it in herself to rein it back.

Because in that one moment, she well and truly hates him.

His voice breaks her thoughts. “And as a direct man myself, let’s not pretend we don’t know what this is about.” 

Rey tenses. Ben takes a slow sip of the drink, and she tenses further. She relaxes, marginally, when he doesn’t immediately drop dead. Marginally.

“You wish to join the Separatist movement.”

Ben’s fingers tighten, just a little, on his glass. “...there is a growing interest on Coronet, yes.”

Nils smirks. “As we suspected. Naturally, a partnership would be to mutual benefit. We have the resources, you have those willing to use them. I will not pretend that major spaceport is not in my interests.”

“Corellia is in mine.” 

“As  _ I _ suspected.” Nils takes a slow drag from the cigarra. “We have the resources necessary to subdue any interference as well. Republic Security Forces, Pathfinder units, the Jedi.”

Rey has to let her next breath out slowly. Her anger spikes again.

“The Jedi are a nuisance,” Ben agrees slowly.

“Which is why we’ve recruited Sith assassins.” 

_ Sith _ ?! Rey’s anger and shock is strong enough that Ben gives a slight wince. 

“Sith?” He echoes, only sounding moderately less surprised.

Nils gives a fast wink. “A valuable commodity. Now, I trust you are interested in touring our manufacturing facility?” 

“Of course.”

“Wonderful.” He stubs out his cigarra. Stands. His ungloved hand presses something on the surface of the desk, and a door opens behind him. “If you would, Thrackan, follow me.”

Ben stands, walks toward the door. Rey waits the half second as she is supposed to, and goes to follow-

“I’m afraid your companion will have to remain here.” Nils voice is cordial, but firm. 

Rey glares at him. And he  _ chuckles. _

“Which she seems to not be in favor of.” His fine eyebrow arches as he turns to Ben. “Quite loyal staff.”

“I could say the same,” Ben says with a firmer tone. Then, just as firmly: “Where I go, she goes.”

Nils doesn’t stop being polite. But there’s a definite finality in his next words. “I’ll have to insist. Don’t worry, she’ll be quite comfortable in my office as we discuss trade.” He stares at her, grey eyes cold and calculating. “Won’t you, my dear?”

She is not his  _ dear.  _ She is not anything but his enemy. 

But Rey smiles. Gives a half bow. 

_ What are you doing?   _ Ben demands.

_ I’ll be close.  _ Because Rey plans on knocking out these...these  _ Sith assassins  _ as soon as they’re alone in the room.

Ben seems to sense her resolve, and her anger, because he only sends her one last look before he leaves with Nils.

Rey watches them go, heart thudding in her chest. 

The door closes. 

She inhales, slowly, ready to exert her Will over the escorts-

“Nils would like us to tell you a little bit about the Separatists,” the woman says from the other side of the room. She gestures to the portraits Rey noticed earlier. “Our founders.”

She doesn’t know why, but her feet cross the room almost on their own accord. Rey thinks she hears footsteps behind her, but suddenly it doesn’t matter. The first portrait is of a severe looking man, with dark eyes and brows, and a white, neatly trimmed goatee. 

“Count Dooku,” the woman says. “Something of a role model to Nils.”

Rey’s eyes slide to the next portrait. She feels heavy, all of a sudden. Tired. 

But there’s a jolt when she recognizes the next figure: a carefully neutral expression, receding hairline. The same impressionistic style as the painting hanging in Convergence.

“Palpatine,” Rey whispers.

“Yes,” confirms the woman, sounding sad. “Regrettably taken from us too soon. Thankfully, one of his proteges remained-”

Rey isn’t listening anymore. Instead, she stares at the last painting. It’s of a young man, probably Ben’s age. His hair is bronze, left long and curling to his shoulders. The eyes are a bright blue, and the left has a thin scar down it. Rey has seen him before. During her trials, in a vision.

Horrified, she takes a half-step back. Her mind is foggy, vision swimming.

Her body collides with something solid. Before Rey can realize what’s happening, heavy hands are on her shoulders, anchoring her into place.

The woman steps closer. Rey tries to Force push her away, but she’s suddenly weak. So weak. The woman gives her a cold smile as she gently brushes Rey’s hair over her shoulder. As something stings the side of her neck.

“Did you really think,” comes the low growl of the man in her ear, “That we wouldn’t recognize the apprentice of  _ Anakin Skywalker _ ?”

Rey’s eyes roll up, and the last thing she remembers are her knees hitting the floor as she collapses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did say many, _many_ secrets on naboo :B
> 
> -[Nils' evil suit](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279471968292/)
> 
> -I have no idea if Shaak Ti, Aayla Secura, and Kit Fisto have long enough lifespans to still be around, but I'm Rule of Cooling it
> 
> -[Sith assassins](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sith_assassin) were not always full Sith/strong in the Force, and because of that they developed a series of unorthodox techniques to hunt Jedi. Gassing a room was one of them :'| 
> 
> -[The Jedi Trials](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Jedi_Trials/Legends)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings** this chapter for drugging and canon-typical torture  & death

**32 ABY** **  
** **\--**

“Well,” Anakin says dryly. “This can’t be good.”

_ “Surely it’s not all bad, either?” _

Anakin looks down with a slow, sad smile. “Of course not.” 

Across from him sits the ghost of Obi Wan Kenobi. He is not as he appeared in death, rather taking on the guise of himself shortly after the Clone Wars. He occupies his old Council seat-- not that of the Grand Master, but the one he occupied for most of Anakin’s life. 

Anakin stands by the viewport, staring across the Coruscanti horizon. He allows himself a moment to miss Padme’s old apartment, which they had until the twins began showing their Force sensitivity. It was a quick decision, after that, to raise them on Naboo. Quick, but not easy.

_ “And yet you don’t seem surprised that I’m here.” _

“If anyone would show up to scold me after death, it would be you Obi Wan.”

The ghost looks cross. Slowly, he folds one leg over the other. “ _ I am not here to  _ scold  _ you, Anakin.” _

“Are you sure?”

“ _ Of course I’m sure.”  _ Obi Wan’s apparition moves from the seat, although Anakin doesn’t see it, and manifests to his side. “ _ Soon, they will all have to face your choices. Our choices.” _

He shakes his head. “I regret everyday of not listening to you.”

_ “And I you, old friend. The Council was in error to use you the way that it did.” _

“And Palpatine died for it.”

“ _ But Padme lived,”  _ Obi Wan points out archly.  _ “Perhaps the Siths’ promises were empty.” _

“Perhaps,” Anakin concedes. “But the Republic still lost its leader. And I lost a good friend.”

Obi Wan’s disapproval echoes throughout the room. But he wisely keeps his thoughts to himself. “ _ It does not do either of us good to dwell in what-ifs.” _

Anakin sends him a slow side gaze. “Either of us?”

He has the hint of a smile. “ _ Perhaps consequences are somewhat beyond me. _ ”

“But not me,” Anakin finishes. He folds his arms into the sleeves of his robes. “Is that what this visit is about?”

His old master closes his eyes. “ _ She is growing stronger in the Force. You won’t be able to hide her for much longer.” _

“From the Separatists?”

“ _ From the Sith. _ ”

Anakin closes his eyes. 

_ “...There is also the matter of your grandson.” _

“Who is not his grandfather.” Anakin’s upper lips curls slightly. “And he won’t make his mistakes.”

“ _ You are too harsh on yourself.” _

“Am I?” Anakin turns to face him, unsurprised that his friend has now taken on the guise of his elder self. “Countless have died in my name.”

“ _ And countless have lived,”  _ Obi Wan says quietly. “ _...you always were meant to be the Balance. And you were forgiven long ago. _ ”

He closes his eyes, the Prophecy stirring up old hurts, old pains. “Is Padme in danger? My children?”

Obi Wan shakes his head. “ _ The sanctuary you’ve built for them is a strong one. Naboo may be the safest place in the galaxy, for the time being.” _

Anakin nods, his swallow difficult. In this, at least, he has done well. And he’s made peace with its cost long ago. 

“ _ I trust you know why I am really here.” _

He exhales. “Yes.” 

“ _ Are you ready?” _

“No,” he says honestly. “But is there a choice?”

In lieu of answering, Obi Wan merely strokes his beard. “ _ I worry the apprentice is too much like the master.” _

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“ _ The ramblings of an old man, given to curiosity. Nothing more.” _

“You always were a terrible liar.”

“ _ I suppose I was.”  _ Obi Wan closes his eyes. “ _ Strange, to have a past tense. _ ”

“I’ve missed you.”

“ _ And I you. Know that when the time comes, I will be there to guide you through the dark.” _

The spectre of his truest friend vanishes. And Anakin is left alone with his thoughts.

And what has always been his greatest fear.

 

**\--** **  
** **34 ABY** **  
** **\--**

It’s her name that wakes her.

_ REY! _

Groggily, she tries to open her eyes. Finds she can’t. Tries to move. Finds she can’t. 

_ Where are you?! _

Rey doesn’t know. And the voice is  _ loud.  _ Too loud. She can’t think with it.

_ Stop yelling,  _ she says back. 

There’s a clicking noise to the side of her, and Rey falls once more into the black.

\--

In the dark, she finds a memory. 

Rey is seventeen, her padawan robes exchanged for those of a knight’s. They still don’t fit quite right. She sits on the ground of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, cross-legged with the backs of her hands on top of her knees, palms open in a standard meditation pose.

“Now,” says the voice of Kyp Durron, pacing back and forth behind her. “I want you to imagine an ocean.”

She does, though she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to listen to Kyp Durron at all. 

In her mind she sees it: the waters are black, cresting in waves that have a white edge. The clouds cover the sun, casting everything in shadow.

“Depressing,” Kyp observes.

In her meditative pose, she scowls.”You didn’t say what kind.”

“This is fine, maybe I’ll call you Stormcloud.”

“Please don’t.”

He ignores her, resuming his pacing. “As soon as you’re in sync with the waves, let me know.”

“What then?”

“Then it gets interesting.” 

Rey sighs, but obeys. After a few moments, she feels the Force within her flow in the same rhythm of the tides. “Done.”

“You won’t like this part.”

“What?”

“Rey, I need you to shut it off.” 

Rey breaks her trance, scowling over her shoulder. “Shut  _ what  _ off?”

She expects Kyp’s face to be smirking, teasing her as he so often did. But it’s not. It’s all stern lines and a discomforted expression. 

“What you can do is not ordinary.” He stops his pacing to stand over her. “And it will make you a target.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your trials. Yoda.” Kyp’s gaze is hard. “People will want to use it, use  _ you. _ ” He crouches down, so that they’re eye-level. “This was the Council’s true request, Rey. I’m going to help you hide it until you’re ready.” 

She feels, above all else,  _ angry.  _ “And what if I don’t want to hide  _ anything _ -?”

“Do it,” interrupts a new voice. 

Both Kyp and Rey turn. Anakin stands before them, looking as though he’s seen a ghost. 

His eyes meet Rey’s, begging. “Please.”

She, and Kyp, are thrown by the request. 

“Anakin?” Rey ventures, confused.

“You’re the last person I thought would support this,” Kyp grumbles, though not unhappily.

Anakin ignores Kyp. Instead, he sits across from Rey, mimicking her pose. His hands hover above hers.

“I’ll help you.”

Hesitantly, Rey outstretches her hands over his-

\--

The next time she breaks from the darkness, it’s because she hears voices. Not the one calling her name. But those of a pair, arguing back and forth.

“We’re out of time!” Barks a man’s voice. It makes her temples throb in pain. But she can place it. It belonged to the man, who claimed to have known her.

“Our orders are to wait for the interrogator-” Rey sluggishly remembers her, too--black hair, brushing her hair away. Sticking something in her neck.

“We  _ can’t wait  _ for the interrogator. Nils said the kid got away-”

Is she the kid? Rey tries to move her hand, finds it restrained. No. She hasn’t gotten away from anything. The inside of her mouth tastes awful, her tongue sticking to the roof of it. 

“How did a karking senator manage that?” 

“He’s,” Rey slurs in her drugged state, “The Interim Minister of Housing,” 

It feels like an important clarification. She can’t move her legs, either. Rey’s head rolls limply to one side. 

“How much was the last dosage?” Demands the woman.

“Double the last!”

“ _ Then how is she waking up _ -!”

A grunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

Instead of a click this time, Rey feels something hitting the back of her head.

\--

She feels submerged. Like she’s sinking, somewhere.

\--   


_ Talk to me.  _ Please _. Anything. _   
\--

Rey is violently pulled awake by something under her nose. Its smell is pungent, burning. Almost immediately she starts coughing, eyes watering. Something feels warm, sticky. When she moves her mouth, she realizes it’s from dried blood down the side of her face. She has enough sense of self to realize that her jacket is gone.

Her vision is blurry, but eventually she registers that there’s a man standing in front of her. He is dressed in a tunic and trousers not unlike a Jedi, but the ensemble is all black. Covers all of his skin. There’s a mask and cowl that hide his face. Further back, a woman stands in similar garb. 

“Morning,” the man in front of her says. 

Rey coughs, back heaving. She’s nauseous. Can’t move.

“It’s the gas. And the poison,” comes the woman’s voice. Rey’s head falls forward so she can’t see, but she hears the footfalls approaching. “You might remember it.”

“What?” She rasps, when she can finally inhale.

“It’s generic, easily hidden in liquids or food,” the woman drawls. “Lethal enough for a common person, but you aren’t common, are you?”

Rey’s addled mind tries to line the pieces up together. “...You tried to kill the Ministers.”

“Acceptable losses,” the woman folds her arms behind her back. “For you.”

Her brows draw together. None of this is making sense.

“We don’t have time for this,” snaps the man. “Give us what we want.”

His hand extends, palm resting just inches from her face. His leather-clad fingers curl, making a shape similar to a claw. His breathing becomes strained, and she imagines if she could see his face, his expression would do the same. 

Rey spits into it.

The man swears, and before Rey knows what’s happening, the back of his hand slams across her cheek. Instantly, her head snaps and she tastes blood. Her ears ring.

“Carnac,” the woman says in slight disapproval. “We’re above such base things.”

“She-!”

“Will remember that, later.” The woman steps forward. “I apologize for my partner.”

Rey tries to wiggle her fingers. Tries to figure out how to  _ move.  _

“We owe the disciple a more civilized reception.”

Disciple? 

The woman slowly withdraws her hand from her leather glove. Extends it in much the same way as her partner.

Only this time, purple lightning sparks off her fingertips. 

Rey has just enough time to realize what’s about to happen, before the pain hits her.

\--

They never ask her any questions.

\--

She continues to sink. Feels her body being pulled further and further into the dark place she’s kept hidden for so long. 

\--

When the woman finally stops, Rey’s left panting. Consciousness flickers in and out, but she does her best to fight the spots creeping into her vision. There’s the smell of smoke emanating from her clothes, her entire body coated in sweat and burning.

“Her will is strong,” the woman says, half annoyed, half awed. 

“Why else would we be here?” 

“The Supreme Leader would be proud,” the woman says, chin tilting up. “But before you assume your place, you must be broken.”

Broken. Ha. Her chest rattles with her breathing. 

Rey’s eyes start to slide close, but then she feels something on the edge of her senses. It’s familiar.

There’s the distant sound of screams, of blaster fire. Rey frowns, trying to cast her senses as best she can. If she strains hard enough, she hears something that sounds like a snap-hiss. 

Her captors sense it too. Their attention turns from Rey to the ceiling. From the look of it, and the distant sound of water, she suspects they’re underground somewhere.

“Take the disciple to the runner,” the woman says. “I’ll deal with whatever this is.”

Rey tries to protest, tries to send the man flying with the Force. But her strength is weak after the drugs and torture, and so she is trapped and powerless as he undoes her restraints. Slings her over his shoulder. Her forehead connects with his back, his arm wraps around her knees.

“I’ll wait five minutes,” he grunts.

“Two,” the woman insists. “She’s more important.”

“Fine.”

“Stop,” Rey whispers, her voice strained. 

Carnac ignores her. There’s the sensation of moving, of being carried.

_ No!  _

“Stop!” Rey commands again, still unable to access most of her connection to the Force.

For a moment, his steps falter. But then they move again, walking faster. Rey smells the toxic water. 

She hears a woman’s scream. 

“Fuck,” Carnac mutters under his breath. His arms move.

For a moment Rey feels weightless, then her back connects harshly to something. Her breath leaves her lungs in a small puff as she realizes she’s been thrown into the back of a watercraft.

Rey uses whatever’s left of her strength to push herself up. She only manages to do it halfway, but it’s enough for her to see Carnac’s back. He’s hunched over, trying to power up the runner. 

She swallows, mouth still dry, and shakily raises her arm, trembling from the effort-

Carnac only a moment to let out a startled cry, before his body is Force thrown so fast Rey can barely see it. It connects with the ceiling of the tunnel, and she hears a sick crack at the impact. Just as quickly, he’s thrown  _ through  _ the front half of the watercraft. Rey watches as his body floats up after a moment, face down. Just like the bodies at the distribution center.

She turns.

Ben’s standing in the entryway to the room where Rey had been tortured, one arm dropping from being raised. From killing her captor.

He’s cast in the blue light of her saberstaff, ignited in his other hand. 

“Rey!” He calls out, and she realizes he can’t see her. 

She manages to fight past her shock and her injuries, crawling toward the side where the dock is. Behind her, the acidic water starts to eat through the hole Carnac’s body has left behind, the runner starting to sink. Rey reaches out, fingers of one hand finding and holding onto the gaps in the grate of the metal floor-

And strong arms pull her the rest of the way out. She gives a groan at the pressure on her injured body, head spinning as she’s carefully laid down on her back.

When her eyes can focus, she sees Ben’s face above hers. His gaze takes in the blood on her face, the wheeze in her breath. And she senses cold fury flowing through him. Raw anger, needing an outlet. 

“Hi,” she manages.

He doesn’t say anything, but his anger abates in favor of relief. His chin quivers, just a little, and Rey absently tries to bring her thumb to run over it. Can’t lift her arm high enough to reach. 

“Can you walk?” He asks, voice thick.

“No.”

She feels one of his arms slide under her knees, another behind her shoulders. She’s lifted from the ground in a carry, and almost instantly Rey collapses against his chest. His heart beats like a ronto’s under her ear.

“We have to go back up through the building to reach the other runners,” he says. And his voice is so carefully controlled she knows he’s fighting down whatever it is he wants to feel. 

“I can’t fight.”

Ben is quiet. Then: “You won’t have to.”

Rey knows what that means. The earlier sounds of blaster fire. The woman’s scream. But she also remembers the woman’s smile, as she drove lightning into Rey’s chest.

“Let’s go,” she finally says.

Ben presses her tighter against him, and once again she’s moving. 

As they step into the lift, Rey grabs a fistful of his shirt to keep herself upright. 

“Why do you have my lightsaber?” 

His fingers flex against her arm. 

“Because you left it for me.”

She feels his lips against the top of her head. Rey closes her eyes, still somewhat delirious.

“I did, didn’t I?”

The lift rises.

\--

When it opens, they’re in Nils’ office. 

And he’s waiting for them. He stands, once again behind his desk. There are grey-uniformed bodies surrounding it, lifeless on the ground.

Rey expects him to shoot, but instead his eyes go wide. Nils steps closer to them, taking in Rey, clearly not in a condition to fight. Ben holding her. Ben, with her lightsaber hanging from his hip.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Nils says in a whisper. Rey doesn’t like the way he smiles. Like he’s discovered something precious. “The rumors. They’re  _ true. _ ”

“What’s true?” Ben’s growl reverberates against her cheek.

“The disciple…” Nils steps toward them. “And the scion.”

Rey feels something cold wash over her. Scion meant-

“Ben Skywalker, isn’t it?” Nils laughs. 

It clicks into place. And almost instantly, Rey feels her mind become sharper, more alert. The portrait, the fanatics in the basement. They were after her, but they didn’t know about Ben. His secret, his lineage. He was safe because of it.

Except now the man in front of them knows. Her mind goes to that basement, imagining Ben in her place as that woman rose her hand and it sparked-

She doesn’t think about what she does next. Rey narrows her eyes, and her lightsaber at Ben’s hip shakes. 

“Ben. Fucking.  _ Skywalker _ -!”

Rey slides her index and middle fingers to the side. The lightsaber tears off Ben’s belt, flies forward.

Halfway in the air, it ignites. Punches through.

Nils’ laugh is cut short in a small huff of air. He looks down, where a perfectly round circle now rests in the center of his chest. 

Rey watches with grim satisfaction as he sinks to his knees, then falls face-forward. 

She doesn’t look up, but she feels Ben’s stare on her. 

He says nothing, as he slowly calls the lightsaber back through the air and into his hand.

\--

When the door to the casino opens, the sight before them is not what either of them expected.

Every occupant, from the pazaak dealer to the kath hound wrangler, has a weapon trained on the door. On them. Rey tries to count them, fails. Over twenty. And she can barely throw her lightsaber.

“Drop the girl,” the man closest to them demands, hand on a blaster that Rey thinks is aimed right between Ben’s eyes. 

She swallows. For once, Rey sees a fight she doesn’t think she can win. And it’s an easy answer for her, on who gets to walk out of here. 

“Ben, it’s alright-”

“ _ No. _ ”

There’s the sound of more clicks, more weapons being targeted. Rey struggles to pull away from him, and manages only enough to stare up at him. 

“Ben, let me go.”

The man shakes his head. “I’m gonna count to three. And then we shoot. That girl’s worth quite a bit of credits, to the right people.”

“Ben!”

He keeps his eyes trained straight ahead. 

“One.”

“Let go!” 

“Two.”

“I love you,” he says carefully, as though trying the words out for the first time. At them, Rey starts kicking, punching his chest, anything to get him to drop her-

“Thr-”

There’s the sound of a snap-hiss. Rey’s eyes dart down quickly. But her lightsaber is unignited, hanging at Ben’s side.

Almost simultaneously, Rey and the man with the blaster trained on Ben turn.

A pink light flares up. Followed by orange. Turquoise. Blue.

“You never called me back,” Kyp says sternly from the entrance. Finn, Tenel Ka, and Tahiri standing behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some intentional paralleling of attack of the clones :B also i know kyp's entrance is extra as hell. but it's the way he would've wanted to show up.
> 
> -[Tenel Ka Djo](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Tenel_Ka_Djo)  
> -[Tahiri Veila](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Tahiri_Veila)


	24. Chapter 24

**  
****34 ABY** **  
** **\--**

“You don’t seem excited,” Kyp observes, the pair of them walking the outside railings of the temple. He has his arms folded behind him, hidden underneath that truly hideous cape.

“Should I be?” Anakin answers. He looks at the stars, knowing most of the ones he sees have died long ago. It strikes him, for the first time, that he is  _ old. _

“It is kind of a fun one, isn’t it? Tracking down pirates in the Consortium. Throw in a damsel and a swashbuckler and you got yourself a third-rate holovid.”

Except Anakin knows they’re not pirates. They’re something far more dangerous. “I should handle this alone.”

“Too bad you don’t call the shots anymore.” Kyp gives a small hm. “Or, ever, really.” He sends Anakin a slow, assessing look. “Is there a reason you didn’t nominate yourself for Grand Master after Obi Wan died?”

“Aside from the ones you already know?”

Kyp clears his throat. “Well, there are rumors.”

“Well, they are true.”

They walk in silence. After a moment, Kyp’s voice rings again.

“Why’d you do it?” 

Anakin closes his eyes. In that moment, he hears the busy traffic of Coruscant’s lower atmosphere. Smells the air that always has multiple layers of scents. He thinks about the stone walls, the gardens and fountains, that have been home to him for so many years. He thinks about goodbyes.

“Because sometimes the Jedi aren’t right.” He opens his eyes to send Kyp a wry look. “And I suspect you’ll know when they aren’t in the future.”

“So all that... over a politician?”

His mind conjures up beautiful, brown eyes. But he knows this is not the politician Kyp is asking about. “He was my friend.”

“I hate to be that guy, but. So what?”

Anakin shakes his head. He feels time wrapping around him, closing tighter like a fist. And maybe someone should know before the Order of the old transitions to the Order of the new. Of Jedi like Kyp. Finn. Rey.  He leans against the railing, after a second, Kyp joins him. Below them walk younger knights and padawans, laughing and talking. It’s almost tranquil. 

“I was there the night they tried to arrest Palpatine.”

Kyp’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

Anakin sends him a long, hard look. Kyp doesn’t wilt under it, but he does accept a non-answer.

“When Master Windu arrived…” Anakin shakes his head. “There was a moment, a pause in the fight. Mace looked to me for action, a decision. He thought I would do what a good Jedi did.” 

“And you did,” Kyp finishes, because everyone knows how that story goes by now.

But Anakin sees that night differently. Almost every night. He remembers watching Palpatine, hanging out of the window. His broken cry for help as Mace stood over him, purple lightsaber in hand. 

Anakin remembers being frozen with indecision, as Palpatine went to raise his hands, and Mace Windu took his head. His pain and anger, as Palpatine’s body topples over the railing and into the indistinct noise of Coruscant.

_ “The Jedi don’t kill their prisoners!”   _ He had screamed. What he meant was:  _ I needed him. _

Mace had sent him a cold, knowing look. “ _ It was in self-defense. Get your loyalties straight, Skywalker. And quickly.” _

He didn’t. Not for a long time.

Anakin takes a long inhale through his nose. “I never made a decision. All I could do was sit there, paralyzed, while my friend was murdered. I was a coward.”

“But Palpatine was a Sith,” Kyp presses carefully.

Anakin doesn’t answer. Instead, his mind goes to the mission he leaves for tomorrow. A military skirmish in Hapes. He knows what’s in Hapes. While he hasn’t been involved in the Separatist movement for decades now, he’s kept tabs on them. Watched what his anger has done to the galaxy in their name. They are preparing by taking industrial strongholds. Next will be military. Finally government. It’s all a matter of time, a shifting of balance in which he was the catalyst so long ago. 

“Let me go alone,” he repeats. 

Kyp shakes his head. “Afraid I’ve already assigned the mission to a knight.”

Anakin tenses. “Which knight?”

“You know which knight.”

The next syllable he says is strangled. “Why?”

Kyp is quiet for a long time, contemplating his best response. “I guess it’s because something about this mission isn’t sitting right with me. But I trust her, and I trust you’ll get her back in one piece. That she’ll get  _ you  _ back in one piece.” He smiles with no humor. “Funny, how that bond between Master and Padawan never really goes away, isn’t it?”

“It’s not safe for her to come.”

Kyp’s next words are carefully neutral. “But safer for another knight?”

Anakin frowns into the night skyline, silent.

“Yeah,” Kyp says sadly, “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

\--

They leave the next morning. Rey with her pack slung over her shoulder, ignorant to the danger she’s about to face. The danger they’ll  _ both  _ be facing. He does his best to make her feel at ease, even managing to smile and ruffle her hair like he did when she was young. But while she’s young, she’s not  _ young  _ anymore. Rey’s padawan braid is years gone. Her robes are those of a knight. She’s been on a handful of missions without him. It’s only a matter of experience, he thinks, and she’ll be ready for the Master’s trials.

For the first time, it dawns on him that he might not get to see it. That he will never take her to Naboo like he once dreamed of doing. That she’ll never meet Padme, Luke, Leia, or...Ben, should he ever get rid of that chip in his shoulder regarding Jedi. She is as much of his family as any of them. 

And she’ll never know it.

They land, and when they do, they do what Jedi do best: defend. 

In the middle of a firefight, trying to preserve as many civilian industrial workers as they can, there is little time for reflection, and even less for words.

\--

The Separatists, who are pretending not to be Separatists but rather revolutionaries, are firing on them as they fight their way to the extraction point. Shuttlecraft load civilians in a hurry as he and Rey stand side by side, deflecting blaster bolts and using the Force to create shields.

It’s strenuous, but not impossible. Until Anakin sees heavy soldiers in the distance, catches the whistles of detonators being ignited.

The charges fly, and when they begin to ignite Anakin does what Anakin does best: he’s careless. 

He uses the Force to shove the civilians outside of the blast range, steps that half foot to stand in front of Rey. He sees one of the Separatist’s expression change, eyes widen in recognition of who they just attacked.

The detonators go off.  
He stops most of it.  
But not all. 

The white, scalding plasma from the blast is held in a large globe in front of his palm. But the shrapnel from the detonators have embedded in his chest. 

All he hears, over the ringing in his ears, is Rey’s strangled cry of  _ No!   _ before he falls over.

\--

He doesn’t know much of what’s happening after that. He feels Rey’s hand over his chest, using her awkward attempts at Force healing to keep his heart still beating even though there’s a slice of metal embedded in it. Knows at some point the evac shuttle arrives, that he’s loaded onto it. That his vision goes dark. Light. Dark again.

Anakin knows he is dying. He’s not at peace with it.

\--

When he comes to, he sees a bright light above him, straining his eyes and making tears well up. There is something in his nose and mouth, and it takes him a minute to realize he’s been strapped to a ventilator. That the low noises in his ear are the hums of machines and droids keeping him alive. He knows it’s only stalling, can feel the  _ pull  _ of something beyond him, burrowing itself into all of his atoms and prying them away piece by piece. With every rattled exhale, more of him leaves.

“Unsteady, your path has been.” 

Yoda’s voice cuts through the machines. And Anakin wishes he could laugh. Because of course it’s the Master who knows the most of his sins that finds him now.

“Must...really be… in trouble.”

“Hm,” Yoda hums neutrally, clearly in thought. When Anakin has enough sense of his faculties to move his eyes, he sees the old Jedi sitting to the side of his bed. Both clawed hands folded on the top of his walking stick, chin resting upon it. His large eyes trained on him, on his dying body.

“Now’s the time...to say something.”

“Uncertain, I am, of what the future will bring.” Yoda sighs, looks up. “The young ones. In what ways will they grow beyond us? Change? Often, this question, on my mind.”

Anakin’s mind thinks about what Finn’s Order might look like. Tenel Ka’s. Tesar’s. Tahiri’s...Rey’s. 

They are all different pieces of an important puzzle. But he does not see the future as Yoda does. Never could, beyond the watery visions of his greatest fears and losses, in dreams. 

“Danger, you have created for them," Yoda continues. “Suffering. Loss. The young ones will not be spared from such things.  But prepared, they are. Resilient, they will be.  _ Strong  _ in the Force.” 

When Yoda continues, it is in a softer tone. “A true Jedi, you were not. But a teacher...hm, yes. A teacher, you were.”

He lets out a watery, suffocated huff. The closest he can get to a laugh. “There are worse things to be.”

“And as rare, nothing is.”

Anakin doesn’t say thank you. And Yoda offers no further comfort. But the two old Masters sit in silence, together, until Yoda leaves to retrieve the apprentice who is no longer an apprentice.

\--

Rey wears her misery on her sleeve. She’s never been good at filtering her emotions, of creating the mask of calm or stoicism as required of their Order. He knows where she gets that from.

Her eyes are both red and shadowed, and she's in the same clothes from when they left for Hapes, even though Anakin suspects it’s been at least a few days. Once again, he is struck by the fact that she is no longer the angry child, or the rebellious teenager he raised. Instead, he sees the beginnings of who she’ll be: a stubborn tilt to her jaw, a fierce need to protect. Enough power to blind a sun. He’s proud of who she’s become.

“You look...terrible, apprentice.”

He hears her start to cry, watches as she grabs his hand. His next inhale is more ragged as he realizes he can’t feel her touch. More of him has been surrendered, it seems. He’s frightened by its absence.

“I’m a knight now, you realize.” She fails to sound nonchalant, voice thick with tears.

He manages a grin. Because he is scared. Because she is scared. “Still...a junkrat.”

Rey says nothing in response, but her grief sharpens. And Anakin is truly afraid. He’s always been so very afraid of death. He looks at the ceiling, knowing every second that passes is drawing nearer to his final moment. 

But there is still more to be said. More for him to do. His eyes well up. There’s still someone to wait for. 

He tries his best, to set some things right before it’s beyond his ability. He tells Rey to go to Naboo, to leave with his wife. Because there is no safer place in the galaxy for either of them. Anakin bought Naboo's protection with his soul and the blood of others. And maybe his request is also born of selfishness-- the desire to survive in the next chapter of their stories, since his is almost finished.

His mind goes to his grandson. His only grandchild, who hates him in a way that frightens him because it speaks of the Dark. Who he knows, just as surely as he knows about Rey, that it’s only a matter of time before his existence is discovered. Until the Sith come, until the anger inside of him is enough to convince him to join them. 

Anakin has never been a good Jedi, and he’s a mediocre father and husband. But, in this, he can do something for Ben that he never could in life: he sends his only student, one of the few things he did  _ right  _ as a Jedi. Maybe one of the few things he can do right by Ben.

Once he’s done giving Rey his final requests, his final mission, he’s too tired to continue. So instead he watches as Rey holds his hand, unable to feel it. And he returns to memories of a scrawny girl who had sand falling out of her boots and a stash of garbage under the floor. His son: blond-haired and sounding out every engine noise carefully for his collection of toy ships--mad whenever Anakin got them wrong. And Leia, who would be the first to hug him and the first to scold him for taking too long, who would argue for later bedtimes, defeating him every time.

He thinks about his grandson, and tries to find happier memories than the ones that first come to mind.

\--

His mind begins to drift, to lose focus in its slow decay.

\--

“Ani!” 

It’s a nickname he hasn’t heard in so long. In a voice that’s clear from holorecording static or comm link distortion. It’s close. 

And if it’s close, that means it’s time.

“Padme?” He asks, scared and desperate.

“Yes, Anakin.” Her voice is closer this time, and he feels her hand on his cheek. 

There has never been anything he’s loved more than this woman. And so whatever’s left of him clings together enough for him to run his thumb across her knuckles. He stops when he feels the band of her wedding ring.

When he inhales, he can almost smell the lakeshores of Varykino. Almost.

“It’s me, I’m here," she says. 

It falls into place slowly: a queen having a conversation with a slave in a junkshop. Two sets of eyes meeting as a carriage is pulled out into an arena. The sun hitting the water as they exchanged vows. The birth of their children, the terror he felt before he heard Luke’s scream break the silence. The wonder at Leia’s unfocused eyes staring up at him. Padme's rejection of what he was becoming, her patience as he fought his way back from it. Her happy smile as her blue, projected form told him he was now a grandfather.

He holds onto her hand one last time.

“Thank you,” he breathes. For a life fuller than the one he ever imagined for himself. 

_ “The time has come, old friend.” _

Anakin squeezes his eyes closed. The room falls away from him at the voice of his old Master and greatest friend.

“ _ And as promised, I have come to guide you once more through the dark.” _

_ Yes,  _ Anakin thinks, with a calm he hasn’t felt before.  _ I can go. _

On his next exhale, Anakin finally surrenders everything that was fighting so hard to break free.   
  


\--   
**34 ABY** **  
** \--

It all happens very fast.

“Finn!” Barks out Kyp. “Secure the package!”

Package-?!

There’s a flash of orange, and on Rey’s next blink, Finn is standing in front of them. He always was better than her at Force acrobatics. 

Effortlessly, he throws up a blaster deflection shield with the hand holding his lightsaber, and gestures to Ben with the other.

“I got her,” he reassures Ben, voice level in his negotiating-for-hostages way.

Ben’s hold on her tightens. And although she can’t see it, whatever crosses his face makes Finn’s eyebrows raise.

“You must be Ben,” her best friend mentions dryly. He looks down, eyes searching hers. “You okay?”

Shakily, Rey nods.

Finn nods back, and musters up a smile. “Then we’re okay.” He looks back up to Ben. “Stay close. Kyp’s about to start, and we’ll have to make a quick exit.”

“Start what-?” Ben demands, but he stops when Rey tugs on his jacket.

“Do what he says,” she manages, fatigue taking over her body once more.  _ And don’t use my lightsaber. Don’t do anything with the Force. _

Rey knows he hears her, even if he doesn’t give a response.

Beyond Finn’s barrier, the man with the blaster takes aim, fires. It deflects off Finn’s shield, ricocheting to hit another cantina patron in the front. He has just enough time to let out a startled cry before he topples over. Geometry, Rey thinks, as her mind goes back to that training session on the beach.

The man swears, and he and several others aim-

Kyp gives a loud whistle. “Criminals, knock it off.”

-collectively, the members of the cantina hesitate. Not stop, fully, but there’s a clear resistance in their desire to shoot them. 

“Come on,” Finn mutters, leading the charge with his orange lightsaber and the glowing dome that surrounds them. 

Ben stays still. 

“Go,” Rey whispers.

He looks down at her, eyes full of a feeling she can’t read, but eventually nods and follows Finn’s lead.

“You’re all going to sit down now,” Kyp says firmly to the crowd.

Half of them do. The other half waiver.

“Sit. Right.  _ Now. _ ”

The standing half look physically pained, but eventually they go down on one knee. Then the other. 

Finn leads them to Kyp’s side, where Tenel Ka and Tahiri flank him on either side. She feels their relief in the Force, but they all know now’s not the time for reunions. 

“Okay,” Kyp says with just the slightest hint of strain. “Finn, you lead. Get Rey and the senator to the runners. Rey,  _ no more bullshit. _ ”

Finn nods. Reluctantly, Rey nods too. Ben glares at Kyp’s profile, but wisely says nothing.

“When I release my hold, Tenel Ka and Tahiri will follow and guard the retreat.”

“We understand, Master Durron.” Tenel Ka doesn’t look pleased when she says it. Tahiri, also, looks troubled.

Rey’s eyes widen. “What about you-”

Kyp rolls his eyes. “I said no more bullshit.” His grim face, looking more strained than before as his hold over the cantina patrons continues, gives her a wink. “Plus I’m more trouble than them.”

Kyp grits his teeth, takes a half-step back. The people in front of them are slowly getting back up to one knee. “Get out of here!” 

“Come on!” Finn yells, starting into a run toward the docking bay.

Ben, with Rey, follow him.

\--

There’s three guards between them and the runners. Finn makes quick work of them, his orange saber cutting through the darkness of the tunnel. If Rey stops to think about anything that’s happening, she knows she’ll be overwhelmed. So she helps where she can, trying to meditate to restore her weakened connection to the Force. Casting her senses out for unseen targets or incoming threats.

Finn stops at the edge of the dock. “ _ Shit _ !” 

“What?” Ben demands.

“These things are fried-”

“What do you mean?” Rey interrupts. 

Finn turns around and looks at her. Then takes a step back so she can see. Sure enough, the control panels are destroyed--sabotaged. Whoever brought them into Moonrunners didn’t want them leaving. A cold chill crawls up Rey’s spine as she wonders how much of this was a trap.

“What does this mean?” The frustration in Ben’s voice speaks for all of them, Rey thinks.

Her mind races as quick as it can in its fog. The water was toxic-

The sound of lightsabers and blasters begins down the end of the tunnel. Kyp broke his hold.

“Put me down,” she settles on, knowing that whatever the solution is, she’s the only one that can do it. 

“Rey-”

“Put. Me down.”

Reluctantly, Ben does, though his hand lingers on her arm. On shaky footing, Rey stumbles to the side of one of the runners. Her eyes take in the wiring, the ruined systems. Painfully, she kneels down, her fingers finding a pair of wires.

“I need ten minutes,” she manages.

“You got about two,” Finn mutters above her, but he moves into the familiar place of guarding her back. 

Ben kneels down beside her. “What can I do?” He asks quietly. 

Rey’s brows furrow in concentration, two wires spark together and she hisses. “Don’t get shot.”

Despite everything, he snorts.

The lightsabers and blasters sound louder. Rey can vaguely make out shouting.

“Rey,” Finn says in warning. 

Ben crouches to her side. His hand ghosts over her lightsaber.

“Ben  _ don’t, _ ” she growls under her breath as she strips two more wires, twists them together.

“You’re the one who told me not to get shot,” he says in that  _ politician’s  _ voice that she hates.

Her fingers are shaking from both exhaustion and nerves. Rey does her best to use the Force to  _ listen  _ to the machine in front of her, but it’s a muted thing. Like trying to hear something through thick glass.

“Come  _ on _ ,” she tells the power grid. 

“They’re in sight,” Finn says calmly.

“The Jedi or the smugglers?”

“Both.”

“Finn!” Comes the distant voice of Kyp, punctuated by the whirs of lightsabers and bursts from blasters. “Why isn’t that engine running!”

“I’m working on it!” Rey screams. 

“WORK! FASTER!”

She doesn’t look up from her task, but she senses Tenel Ka and Tahiri approach.

“My friend,” Tenel Ka says from somewhere above her, sounding exhausted, “I believe this counts as a favor.”

“ _ Two  _ favors,” Tahiri presses, her breathing in pants. 

“I’ll owe you all the favors I can,” Rey says, not looking up from the paneling, “If I could only get this thing to-!”

On the other side of the tunnel, the side that leads to  _ outside  _ of Nils’ fortress, there’s a crash. Then the sound of an engine. 

“What?” Rey looks up. 

And observes a few things.

First, Kyp is guarding all of them. As attackers approach, he pushes out with the Force and they go flying, fast and violent, as if the earth was ripped away from their feet. He doesn’t look tired in the same way that Tenel Ka and Tahiri look tired, but there’s a tension in his shoulders. 

Second, Finn is guarding the runner, his hands cast out to hold a barrier as Rey works on it.

Third, is that Ben is glaring at the exit to the fortress with a very familiar look of annoyance.

Rey turns around. 

A clunker of a shuttlecraft, with  _ The Happabore  _ stamped on the side in Aurabesh, flies into the tunnel from the outside. Rey tenses, ready to fight, as the junker does an awkward pivot, half-turning until the door is on the other side of the runner.

Her hand fumbles at her side, searching Ben’s waist for her lightsaber-

The door slides open. Han Solo’s face pops into view, his body in a kneel and hand outstretched.

“GET IN THE VAN!” 

Before Rey can process what’s happening, she feels Ben’s hands around her waist. He lifts her, and on reflex, Rey grabs Han’s forearm. The old man nods, grunts, and lifts her in. Her body topples over onto the patchwork flooring of the shuttle. She feels black spots creeping on the sides of her vision, but Rey keeps her eyes trained on the door, not allowing herself to pass out until she knows everyone is safe.

Han pulls in Ben next. Then Finn jumps in. Tenel Ka, Tahiri. Finally, Kyp.

“Punch it, Threepio!”  Han calls to the pilot.

“Oh dear, it seems Knight Rey has sustained-!”

“ _ Punch it _ !” At least three people yell. 

Threepio wisely puts the craft into motion. Ben moves toward her. Rey, unable to hold up against her injuries and her initial shock wearing off, collapses-- her head barely avoiding the metal ground by someone quickly catching her.

\--

She doesn’t return to consciousness so much as being dragged into it.

Kyp’s voice sounds above her head, and Rey can feel it-- and his will-- bringing her back from the dark. When her eyes focus, blearily, she finds herself in a standard medical facility with Kyp Durron sort of... _ looming  _ over her bed.

Immediately, she thinks about Ben. If he’s alright, if they found out about him, about Anakin-

“You really know how to kark things up, don’t you Stormcloud?”

Kyp’s words are like a knife through her inner questions. She struggles to sit up, her body feeling uninjured but  _ tight  _ in the way it does after a long soak in a bacta tank. Rey looks down to find her body in the white robe customary of patients.

“Is-” Ben. “Everyone alright?” She croaks, voice hoarse.

Kyp continues to loom. “Everyone’s fine,” he says, clipped.

Her tension eases, somewhat. Rey looks around, trying to find anything to clue her into her location and failing. “Where am I?”

Kyp’s voice is flat. “Naboo.”

Rey starts, throwing back the blankets and-

There’s a hand pushing her down. “I’m not done yelling at you. In fact, haven’t started.”

“...over not returning your calls?” She ventures, hopeful.

“About running off to Naboo, then running off to Kepler-- a planet that specifically hunts Jedi by the way, botching a mission to hell and back, and almost getting your charge killed.” Kyp scowls. “A charge who’s apparently in love with you. Am I missing anything?”

Rey physically feels the blood drain from her face. Because of course he heard Ben’s confession. Which meant Finn, Tenel Ka, and Tahiri had as well. 

“I forgot to return your calls,” she whispers, numb. 

“And you forgot to return my calls,” Kyp agrees. 

Rey stares at her hands in her lap, throat feeling tight. Kyp knew. The leader of the Jedi Order  _ knew.  _ And she…

Her eyes burn. Her fingers twist in the fabric of her blanket. 

“Where is he?” She finally asks, because the worst he can do now is not tell her.

Kyp stares at her for a few more seconds, before he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking older. “He  _ was  _ in the process of being escorted back to a townhouse in Theed.”

Rey’s head tips up. Kyp frowns.

“But he invoked some esoteric law I’ve never even heard of, saying that escorting him back under duress was kidnapping.” Kyp’s frown deepens. “We agreed to a truce. He gets to talk to you after  _ I  _ get to talk to you. And for the record, I hate him.”

Rey’s heartbeat slows slightly in relief.

“Before we get to  _ that, _ ” Kyp says grimly, Force pulling a chair to him. “Tell me about what happened.” His gaze goes harder, angrier. “The politician-”

“-Ben-”

“-said you had been tortured.”

Rey closes her eyes. Smells ozone, the smoke from her own clothes. Sees the purple flash of lightning-

“Rey.”

She exhales at Kyp’s interruption of her thoughts.

“Yes,” she manages finally, “I was tortured.”

\--

Rey tells him about the mission: the Separatists, the Sith assassins. How it tied into the assassination attempt at the state dinner. What she doesn’t tell him is about Anakin’s portrait hanging in Nils’ office. Or that she’s something called the Disciple, and Ben’s something called the Scion. And she doesn’t mention the bodies Ben left behind in his rescuing of her, or how she killed Nils without a thought.

Something Kyp seems to pick up on.

“Seems like it’d be hard,” he says neutrally, “To fight your way up to that office after having been tortured.”

Rey looks straight at him. “It was.”

He pointedly doesn’t say anything. When she's done, he tells her about what she missed. How Finn had contacted him, worried, about two weeks ago after getting a distressing comm from Rey about, quote unquote, personal matters. How he'd made contact with Han after playing chase with comm lines. How Han stole a van after the tracking signal on Rey's datapad didn't move for two hours. How Ben's mother and grandmother were  _very angry_ at everyone involved, aside from Rey.

When he's done, he leans back in his chair, rubbing his hand over the bottom half of his face. Whenever he’s worked out what his thoughts are, he turns his attention back to her.

“It’s time you head back to Coruscant.”

Her heart lurches. “What?”

“These Sith assassins will be after Force users,” Kyp says with a hint of something Rey doesn’t like. His brows raise, and he watches her knowingly. “So unless there’s Force users  _ here,  _ there’s no reason for you to stay. Correct?”

“Ben-” Kyp’s expression sours, so Rey corrects herself quickly, “The Naberries could be in danger. For knowing about the Separatist plot.”

“Then,” the Grand Master says, “we let the RSF handle it. Because that’s  _ their  _ job. Ours is to stop this…” he rolls his hand, looking for an appropriate phrase. “Revenge of the Sith.”

A long silence passes between them. 

Kyp’s voice is gentle, but firm. “It’s time for you to break things off with your senator, Rey.”

She bites down hard on her lower lip. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you can’t come back to the Order.”

Rey turns away, looks out the nearest window. The green, domed roofs of Theed stand outside of it. She remembers her first day here, walking under the crystal-lit paths.

“...And if I don’t go back to the Order?”

Kyp sighs, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “One, I don’t think that’s the decision you actually want to make. And two,” he lets his hand drop. “You know Anakin would want you to stay.”

Rey flinches.

The silence between them is long and oppressive. Rey feels a sting in her eyes and is embarrassed to find that she’s crying. Angrily, she rubs the heel of her hand across each cheek.

“The Jedi have many different ways of loving,” Kyp says. His tone surprises her, caught somewhere between paternal and...sympathetic. “What you’d walk away from is just one of those ways. There can be others.”

Her mind flashes back to the night she left Naboo. When she suggested friendship. She knows, now, how equally impossible she finds that proposition. How absurd.

“You promised that when I called you in, you would come,” Kyp says levelly. “Well, there’s a possible Separatist renaissance, an unknown Sith force, and what I suspect is a double agent in the temple on Coruscant.” He looks tired. “I’m calling you in, Rey. Because if I don’t, people  _ are  _ going to get hurt.”

Rey closes her eyes.

“You already know what should be done. You decide if you’re going to do it or not.” Kyp stands, levitating his chair back into place. “You can say goodbye to your senator on the way to the tarmac. But we need to move, and we need to move fast, to curb these threats. I’d give you more of a break, but you’ve been under sedation for three days and we’re out of time.”

He leaves without another word. And Rey Force throws a tray against the wall before she numbly pulls on a pair of Jedi robes Kyp left out for her.

\--

He’s standing on the docking bay when she emerges from the building. Waiting, and dressed in soft greys not unlike the first time Rey saw him on this very tarmac. Behind him, Finn and Kyp prepare a small cruiser for flight-- Tenel Ka and Tahiri likely having left for Coruscant earlier. 

Ben looks at her, making a slow gesture of it, as he finds every new scar or bruise from Kepler. She wants nothing more than to run, throw her arms around him. But Kyp is keeping a less than discrete eye on them. 

“Are you okay?” She asks softly. 

He looks back to her face, his eyes dark and red-rimmed. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Rey smiles sadly. 

“You’re going with them,” he concludes, and Rey wishes it didn’t make her hurt so much.

“I think so.” Because someone needed to stop the Sith. Someone had to figure out who was behind the Separatists and Rey’s torture. Kyp was right on that account, at least. “For now.”

Ben closes his eyes. Inhales slowly. When he opens them, he takes something off his belt and extends it to her. The hilt of her lightsaber. 

Weary, she grabs the opposite end. Their gaze meets over it. He doesn’t let go, and she doesn’t move to pull it closer.

“What I said in the cantina,” he says slowly, eyes burning. “I meant it, Rey.”

“I know.”

“Then what happens here.”

Rey takes a step closer. His grip on the lightsaber goes lax, and absently she tucks it back into its holster. She’s aware that Kyp is scrutinizing her every move right now, that there’s a lecture for every decision she makes. But if Kyp knows she’s coming back, then he needs to know something, too. 

Rey brings one her hands to one of Ben’s. His stare could burn a hole through her as she brings them up to the level of her mouth.

She bows her head, and when she speaks her lips ghost over his knuckles. “Your family’s secret is safe with me.”

His hand flexes.

“And.” Rey presses a kiss to the back of his hand. Lets it rest there for a moment, lingering. When she lifts her head up, it’s to look directly into his eyes. “I’m  _ with  _ you, Ben. As long as you want to be with me.”

He stares at her in disbelief. But when she doesn't move, doesn't take back what she said, he gives a tight nod. 

“Rey, we’re leaving!” Kyp shouts in the distance. “ _ Now _ !”

Ben visibly swallows. She hasn’t dropped his hand yet.

“I’ll be back,” Rey whispers. 

The cruiser to Coruscant powers up. 

Ben steps closer, resting his forehead against hers. It’s not a kiss, but it has the same level of intimacy when his free hand cups her face. When his thumb traces over her cheek and his fingers tangle in her hair.

“...Then I’ll wait.”

\--

When she finally boards the shuttle, she stops at the threshold after the gangway. She turns to see him standing a few feet away from it, arms crossed and emotions dancing between angry and sad, hopeful and heartbroken.

Rey doesn’t look away from that spot. Not even when the door slides closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -[Ben's sad farewell outfit (but in Greys for Parallelism)](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279470382991/)
> 
> - _The Happabore_ is an infamous space van from my [crossroads](https://archiveofourown.org/series/432076) series
> 
> -i forgot to post it last chapter, so here's the reference for [sith assassin Looks](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/swse/images/c/c7/Sith_Assassin.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20171028235614)
> 
> -i've set up a side story collection! it's called "constellations" and is now under the new series tag: satellites verse. if you ever want a side story on something specific, feel free to hit me up. as long as it doesn't interfere with the plot, i'm down to write it
> 
> - **head's up!** that the next chapter will have explicit sexual content. i am planning on posting smut-free versions of chapters in a separate fic for those who'd prefer to skip over those parts. i did it for a previous series [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/620134) if y'all would like to see what i'm talking about


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **NOTES PLEASE READ**  
>  this chapter has sexually explicit material, and it's between two virgins. i tried to keep it semi-realistic in terms of them not being experienced/asking questions/etc. so:
> 
> 1\. this isn't the only smut i'll be writing for this story, and later scenes will come after a time jump (therefore when rey + ben are in an Established Relationship). due to it being a first time, it's more about feelings & figuring things out than it is about being hot/actual smut 
> 
> 2\. because there'll be some explicit material, and said explicit material might not be everyone's thing, i made a collection of smut-removed versions of the chapters [ here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17222657/chapters/4049938). There might be some awkward transitions, but everything's going to be fade-to-black at most
> 
> \--  
> okay! more specific warnings: references to masturbation, fingering, ben folding a shirt in the middle of it, mutual loss of virginity, probably some awkwardness, me likely forgetting where an arm is once or twice

 

\--

**35 ABY** **  
** **Eight months later**

The door slides open with a pressurized sound.

Rey’s fist drops, not even having knocked. She feels eyes on her and so she looks up, hazel meeting brown. He doesn’t say anything, and she can feel her heart thudding harder in her chest.

“Sorry,” she manages, awkwardly. “I should have holo’d. Or comm’d.”

He doesn’t move, face unreadable. 

And she suddenly feels stupid for stopping at his apartment. Even stupider considering her state: there’s a fresh bacta patch slapped across her forehead, the trousers of her robes torn at the left knee. She’s dirty, not having been able to get all the smell of smoke out of her hair and clothes even after several refresher cycles.

...and he hasn’t seen her in almost a year. His hands are digging into the frame of the door. Rey doesn’t know how she expected this to go, but it wasn’t like this _.  _ In even the worst-case scenario, Ben at least  _ said words.  _

She clears her throat, hand fiddling with the holster strap over her shoulder as nerves start to build.

“I was chasing a lead on Erep and got done ahead of schedule. Naboo was on the way back to Coruscant. I thought…” Rey falters when she sees him visibly swallow, his eyes a little wider. “I hope you got my messages. I tried to send more, but they were censored.” 

Rey clears her throat, cheeks burning. “And I meant to come earlier. But Kyp grounded me for six months aside from chaperoned missions and then I had to attend the re-education programs on relationships-”

Ben grabs her arm, pulling her forward. Rey barely avoids tripping over her own feet before the door slides close behind her and he’s pressing her up against a wall. 

His lips descend on hers in a crashing motion, the arm not holding onto her bracing his weight above her head. Rey quickly drops her pack in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck, her booted feet rising on their toes. Ben’s lips part and she takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, relief flooding her. When his shields in the Force drop away, she finds his relief in equal measure, an old anxiety finally dropping. Her fingers start to twist into his hair, longer now--slightly past his shoulders. Hers is shorter, cut choppy above her shoulders after part of it got singed on a mission and she decided she liked it. They’ve missed a lot of time. She’s missed  _ him _ .

Ben breaks their kiss in favor of cupping her face in his hands, eyes scanning her expression-- looking for something, although Rey’s not sure what. Finally he exhales, his body going lax as he presses his forehead to hers.

“Don’t be gone that long again.”

Rey brings her hands to the outside of his, letting her thumbs trace over the backs of them as she closes her eyes. She can count on one hand the amount of times someone has been waiting on her. 

“I’ll do my best.”

Ben makes a low noise that sounds like agreement, hands sliding to her biceps, then her waist.  The weight of them is heavy and comforting. She feels grounded by it, by him. When her hands fall from his, she brings them around his neck. For awhile, they just breathe together, and he pulls her into an embrace. Her head tucks under his chin, her cheek against his chest. He’s wearing some brocade thing-of-a-vest, and the pattern of it presses into her skin but she doesn’t mind. She’s not letting go until he does. 

This must be what love is like, she thinks. Not the way she’s known it before, but the kind she has been vehemently warned against her entire life. She feels her body relaxing in his hold. 

“You smell like a furnace,” he says quietly into her hair.

“Something blew up,” she admits. “How was your day?”

He lets out a short, dry laugh at that. She likes the way it makes his chest vibrate, how she can feel his exhale on the top of her head. “Not as eventful.”

“Probably a good thing.”

His long fingers thread through her hair. 

“Probably.” His lips press to her temple. She feels his thumbs trace over the sides of her hips--exploratory. It’s a soft action, but she can sense the small change it’s made.

His voice is steady when he speaks next. “I want you to stay tonight-”

“Okay,” she agrees before he finishes.

His surprise registers as his body going still. It makes her smile, because there’s no doubt in her mind that he prepared at least five discussion points on the subject. But eight months is a long time to wait, and it’s a long time to think. And Rey knows she wants this. All of it. 

When Ben remembers that he can actually move, she feels two of his fingers under her chin, tilting it up. She allows herself to be directed, opening her eyes and feeling both happy and sad at the way he looks at her. 

“By staying, I mean-”

“I know.”

“And that’s...what you want?” His face is neutral aside from the slight tic under his eye, but his feelings are easy for her to read:  _ With me?  _ Is what he really means.

It’s different, him hesitating now that they’re both here. Especially with his confidence in initiating the relationship. But Rey can understand insecurity, the fear of not being enough. It’s not a logical thing, and it’s something that’s ingrained in both of them. 

“It is.” 

His movement is careful when he leans down, fingers still under her chin. His nose brushes the side of hers. It’s all painfully slow, like he’s afraid she’ll leave if it goes fast. Rey makes the decision for him, moving her chin up so that their lips connect. It’s light at first, but then his fingers move from her chin to her jawline, and there’s a gentle pressure there that has her angling her face. When she parts her lips, she feels his tongue brush against hers and it’s like a jolt down her spine. At her sudden tenseness, she feels him withdraw, concerned, and she doesn’t want that. Rey reaches, grabs a fistful of his vest and holds him in place.  _ Stay there.  _

It must dawn on him that it was a  _ good  _ kind of tense when she reciprocates. It’s almost a shy movement-- she’s never done this, after all-- as she experimentally runs her tongue over his lower lip. He inhales sharply, and the fingers on her jaw move up into her hair. Rey figures that for a good sign, and is more direct when she tries again. He pulls away, and she has just a moment to be confused before he kisses her again,  _ hard.  _ Enough that she has to take a half-step back, that her head would hit the wall if not for his hand cushioning the back of it. 

Her hands slide down from their place at his neck, and underneath her palms she feels the fabric of his vest. It’s not what she wants to feel-- the thought surprising her -- she wants to touch his skin, to have her palms against his bare back and  _ Force  _ she’s read too many of Tahiri’s smuggled data-tapes. Even if it was for research-

Her thoughts are interrupted as she lets out a quick gasp. Ben’s broken the kiss in favor of placing one just below her ear. Rey doesn’t know why that makes such a difference, but it  _ does.  _ It very much does _.  _ The skin is so sensitive she can feel the slow drags of his lips, the warmth of his tongue and breath and she’s reasonably sure her inhale has a slight hitch to it. Then there’s the graze of teeth and her fingers dig into his shoulders. It makes him groan, against her throat, and she doesn’t know why but  _ that  _ makes her arch her back, which makes her hips press forward-

He hisses against her neck, forehead dropping abruptly to her shoulder.

Her face burns. “Did that hurt?”

Ben’s voice is strained. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

A long exhale. “I’m sure.”

Her heart’s thudding against her chest. With neither of them moving, she becomes more aware of their proximity-- that Ben is very  _ big,  _ and his frame nearly envelops hers. That the hand at the back of her head almost spans the whole of it. And that jolting feeling is back, trying to find its grounding somewhere in her lower stomach.

“I…” and her cheeks are burning again, and so is her throat, and she wants him to do that thing below her ear again- “I might need you to…” 

Rey doesn’t know how to finish her request, and it sounds a little uncomfortable to her own ears. Something Ben picks up on, as he pulls away enough to read her face.

“What is it?” He asks quietly, his eyes looking darker than usual to her.

Rey bites her lower lip, oblivious to the fact that Ben stares at the motion, and slides her gaze to the ground. “I haven’t done this before,” she finally manages. Then, with a grumble: “For obvious reasons.”

Ben’s hand moves against her cheek, redirecting her gaze. “I haven’t either.”

Her eyes widen. “Why not?” And then she winces, because that’s  _ not  _ how she meant for that to sound. “I just mean, you…”

There’s a sharpness to his expression, an intensity that takes her off-guard. “I haven’t wanted to before.”

“What?”

“It’s just you, Rey.”

For some reason that makes her throat feel tight. And she feels vulnerable in that moment, because someone was waiting for  _ her  _ and that’s...that’s really something. She can’t understand it, what makes her  _ that  _ person to him-- to anyone really-- but… 

He kisses her again, soft and slow. He kisses her until the mess of emotions she’s suddenly swimming in settle. When he pulls away, his thumbs rub comforting circles on the inside of her wrists, hands held between them.

“Do you want to go inside?” He finally asks.

They are still in the threshold, aren’t they? Rey smiles and it brushes his lips.

“Does your stupid apartment still not have furniture?”

He lets go of a surprised laugh--that dry, half-chuckle half-scoff she’s grown fond of. It makes them brush lips, too. “It has furniture.”

“Then I guess I’ll come in.”

Rey moves to remove her boots, but she’s interrupted by Ben kissing her again. Not as softly, this time. His hand presses between her shoulder blades and they’re flush against each other as she struggles to just kick the karking things off. As soon as they hit the ground, Ben moves his hands to her waist. His voice sounds a little hoarse when he steps back. 

“I have the bed, or-”

“Bed.”

“Good.” He moves his hands and-

Rey lets out a little yell when she’s suddenly being lifted up. Instinctively, her legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back and-

_ And. _

This time, she’s the one that hisses, as she feels something hard press between her thighs, near that place she’s been slowly winding. Experimentally, she rolls her hips, tries to figure out why the contact is not quite right-

Ben stumbles as he carries her. The groan he makes sends satisfaction through her, and so Rey does it again-

“Wait,” he manages. “ _ Please. _ ”

She obliges, resting her hands on his shoulders. A few more steps, and then Ben’s setting her down. She feels a mattress underneath her and her heart beats faster -- a little nervous, yes. But mostly curious. Excited. It’s right, she thinks, that she’s doing this with Ben. 

He brings one knee to the bed, followed by the other, and he covers her frame with his own. They don’t do anything for a moment, each of them adjusting to the reality of what's happening. Her eyes dart to the side, and she can see that he’s holding himself up by his arms. Not knowing what else to do, Rey settles on getting rid of what’s been annoying her all evening. 

Slowly, but confidently, she slides apart the buttons on Ben’s vest. He swallows, unable to watch from where he lies over her, but no doubt feeling it as she tugs at the fabric.

“You wear too many clothes,” she mutters, single-mindedly fixated on the task at hand. It makes her miss the soft expression on Ben’s face as he brushes back her hair.

She slips it from his shoulders, so he’s just in a shirt, and he holds his breath when she experimentally runs her hands underneath the thinner fabric, finally feeling his back. It’s warm, the ridges of his shoulder blades resting under her calloused palms. 

Rey looks up, meeting the gaze hovering just over her. 

“We can stop whenever you want to,” she reassures.

He smiles at that, the real one that leaves his face slowly and makes her smile in return. 

Rey leans her head up and kisses him. It’s initially chaste, but gains intensity when Ben shifts, one of his arms resting under her head so she doesn’t have to strain her neck and his tongue sliding past hers. Rey feels the need to adjust her leg, knees on either side of his hips. His weight starts to settle comfortably on top of her. Soon he’s back to kissing her neck-- lips followed by tongue and occasionally an experimental, light bite. He finds a place that she thinks is near her pulse and it makes her moan, her thighs trying to press together only to be stopped by Ben’s hips in the middle of them.

He stops what he’s doing with that, back arching up slightly under her hands. 

“Are you okay?” Rey whispers, genuinely concerned.

“Yes.” After he takes a breath, he drags the back of his knuckles down the column of her throat. “Do you...like it, when I do that?”

“Yes.”

Her hands are still pressed against his back, her knees framing his hips. The nerves are gradually fading, replaced with something else-- something that’s a little slower but insistent. Especially when he looks down at her like that-- like he’s never seen anything like her in the whole universe.

“Can I try something?” 

Rey nods. 

Ben rolls to his side, taking her with him. Her hands slide from his back and she lets out a short breath of surprise before they’re laying on their sides and he’s holding her against him, her back to his chest. Instantly, she feels his hardness pressing into her, not quite where she wants it to be. So she shifts, and he groans, the arm around her shoulders pressing her tighter against him. 

“Hold on,” he says, the words sounding almost like a beg.

Rey stills, sending him a confused look over her shoulder.

In response, he uses his free hand to brush her hair back over her shoulder, lowering his mouth to kiss the skin of her neck again. Instantly, Rey faces forward, letting her head rest against a pillow so he has easier access, hoping he’ll find that place behind her ear again-

He does. Ben alternates between his lips and his tongue, and before Rey knows it, her breaths are coming out in shorter pants. And it’s ridiculous, she thinks, that just that small bit of skin can make her heart pound and her blood rush in her ears. But it does, a feeling that only intensifies when Ben’s hand slides under her tunic, spread across the bare skin of her stomach. Rey’s not sure what it is she wants, exactly, only that what she has right now isn’t enough. So she arches back into him, and he bites down lightly on her ear lobe right when his hand rests over her breast. 

The fabric she wears over them is thin, and the feeling of Ben’s mouth on her skin coupled with his palm brushing her nipple makes her sigh.

“Ben…”

The sound of his name seems to encourage him, and soon his palm is replaced with fingers. Through the fabric, they gently roll the sensitive skin between them, soon finding a pattern with the attention he’s giving her neck. Rey’s knees squeeze together, breath shallow, and she groans again when the arm around her shoulders shifts so it rests under her, his opposite hand cupping her other breast and thumb ghosting painfully light circles over its nipple, then harder ones, and she’s definitely pressing her hips back into his now, the length of him almost--but not quite--lining up where she wants it. When she pushes a little harder, he lets out a groan that sounds like her name, once again resting his forehead on her shoulder.

“Ben?” Rey asks, when he doesn’t move.

“Give me a second.”

She does. Then thinks about rolling her hips again-

“ _ Rey. _ ”

Even though he can’t see her face, she grins. They lay there for a moment, Rey’s tunic half shoved up and her breastband half shoved down and she’s... _ impatient.  _

Ben’s voice is low in her ear. “Can I try something else?”

Rey nods. 

He keeps one hand on her breast, shoving the band up so it’s just skin-to-skin and she exhales happily, some of the pressure in her abating at the warm weight of his hand, the careful movements of his fingers. 

Then his other hand slides down. Steady fingers find the fasten to her trousers, then clumsily try to undo its fasten-

Rey breathes in, strained. Ben begins to kiss her neck again.

And she watches, transfixed, as his hand disappears under her underwear. The first thing she feels is one of his fingers, probably accidentally, brushing against her clit. And she must make a noise at the contact, because Ben stops.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she says, biting her lower lip. Trying to get her breath under control.

“Did that hurt?”

She shakes her head. Whatever that was, it had definitely not hurt.

He seems to understand after a moment, because he slowly traces a finger over it again. “Here?”

“Mhm,” Rey lets out, because she doesn’t think she trusts herself to speak right now.

Growing more confident, Ben begins a slow stroke with one of his fingers, starting at her clit and down to her folds-

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, stopping.

“What?” Rey asks, wondering if it’s her, if there’s something  _ off  _ -

“You’re..” she feels him swallow. “Wet.”

“Oh,” Rey flushes. “That happens when I do it, too.”

“You-?” He sounds hoarse. "I didn't think Jedi-"

“What else are we supposed to do?” 

And maybe it’s because of what they’re doing, or it crosses his mind particularly hard, but his thoughts are clear in Rey’s mind. He’s thinking about her, touching herself like he’s wanting to touch her-

“You can,” she says quietly, interrupting. “Touch me, that is.”

Ben exhales, sounding like a shudder. Carefully, his finger moves again. It brushes over her clit, making Rey sigh, then down into her folds, stopping just short of her entrance. His other hand is still on her breast, slowly massaging it. Then he moves his finger up again, and this time he keeps his thumb over her clit as he strokes. He pushes down on it just as his other hand rolls her nipple and she makes a strangled noise that’s cut short when his finger enters her.

“Shit,” he exhales, and she agrees. His hand is bigger than her own, his finger wider, longer. She shifts her hips to adjust, and almost cries out when he experimentally drags it out, then back in.

“Is that okay?”

Rey nods, not trusting herself to say anything. He does it again, and she decides he moves too  _ slow,  _ and begins to grind herself on his palm. His breath is shorter in her ear as he adds another finger. Ben listens to the sounds she makes, the way she adjusts her body, as he starts to set a pace. As his fingers move faster, he starts to kiss her behind the ear again, and Rey slams her eyes shut. It’s sensory overload, as she tries to determine if she should focus on his lips and tongue or his hands. Impatiently, she shimmies her trousers down, tilting the side of her hip back so he can go deeper. He gives a sharp exhale on her skin.

“Does this feel good?” He asks, breathing heavily as he tries and fails to stop from pressing his hips into her.

For some reason, that question makes the muscles in her lower stomach tighten. “Yes.”

“Faster or slower?”

There’s a strain in her thighs, a pull that’s about to take her over an edge. “Faster.”

He adds a third finger, and Rey lets out a stuttered sound and he’s only on his second move when she comes. She gasps again as she throws her head back to rest on his shoulder. He swears when he feels her muscles flutter around his touch--and the hardness at her back is undeniable. After a second of inaction, he moves his thumb to her clit, lightly circles it, and she comes again, toes curling and hips grinding backward into his. After it passes, she lays there until she gets hold of her senses again.

He waits for her to come down. And Rey suddenly falls to her back when he moves, leaning over her with his elbows propping up his weight. She’s surprised when he kisses her forehead, her nose, her mouth-- light and at odds with the pulsing need that’s hanging around him like a storm. 

He watches her with dark eyes, waiting for her to make the next move. She doesn’t look away as she artlessly shrugs off her tunic and breastband in their disheveled state. His swallows tightly when she moves her fingers to his shirt, undoing it just a little slower than the vest-- the buttons smaller and more tightly stitched.

“Too many clothes,” she whispers, feeling oddly comfortable sitting half-naked in front of him. Confident in knowing she has his full attention.

“You too,” is all he manages to say, and it makes her smile. 

Once she’s done undoing his shirt, Rey leans back on her elbows and kicks off her trousers. Taking a deep breath, she lays under him, now naked, and waits.

It’s him that’s vulnerable now, as he pulls off his shirt, folds it ( _ folds it _ ), and sets it to the side. Then his pants. Underwear. If not for the slight shake to his shoulders and hands, Rey would think he was taking his time. Instead, she thinks he’s trying to get himself under control. 

“Hey,” she says quietly, watching his face. 

Ben looks at her, something pleading in his expression. Rey gives a small smile. 

“I trust you,” she says calmly. Because she thinks that’s what he needs to hear. Because it’s true.

Something softens around his eyes. His nose, his chin. He leans forward and kisses her. When they part, she senses that he wants to say something, and so she’s patient as he figures it out.

“You’re…” He closes his eyes. “You’re  _ more  _ than me.”

The actual sentence doesn’t make much sense, but Rey understands the sentiment behind it. She brings a hand up to the side of his face, lets her thumb slowly move across his cheek. 

“I’m not,” she promises. 

He kisses her palm.

“I love you,” he tries out for the second time. It’s less cautious, more intent.

“I love you, too. I’m okay with waiting if you want.”

He lets out that startled half-laugh, half-scoff again. “I don’t want to wait.”

“You’re sure?”

The look he sends her is almost a glare and it makes her laugh. He smiles at that. Then moves the hand he’s holding until it’s held above her head on the mattress. Taking the unspoken direction, Rey leans back, head tilted up as once again he looms over her. Then he laces their fingers together. 

“Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.”

Ben pushes his hips forward. Rey moves her hand down between them, delicately guiding. Ben tenses and then Rey feels him. It doesn’t hurt like she’s heard so many times before (or read in those kriffing data-tapes), just a pressure as he eases deeper. But Ben, it seems, is experiencing something stronger-- his fingers clench hers tightly, as well as the sheet around them. His whole body has a light tremor to it, and he gasps as he buries his face into the crook of her neck. 

When he doesn’t move, his whole body seemingly paralyzed in this tense position, Rey feels the need to adjust. Experimentally, she bends her knees and has them on the outside of his hips like they were earlier. She feels Ben’s ragged inhales on her shoulder. But the movement helps-- the pressure is still here, but less intrusive.

“I need to move,” he says with strain in his voice.

“Okay.”

Slowly, he pulls out. At the friction, it’s more pleasant. Something closer to what she felt with his fingers-- what she was used to.

When he pushes back in, she lets out a small noise. It’s easier this time, more comfortable. And without the pressure, she’s more acutely aware of  _ him.  _ His fingers digging into her hand, his short breaths, the sensation of his body over hers, caging it. Desire starts to build once more. 

He thrusts again, and, yes, it definitely feels better with each time. Rey tries something when she brings her knees up (Ben swears), and then around his waist. To keep them in place, she crosses her ankles over each other. As soon as he moves in this new position, they both let out groans-- it’s deeper, easier. But she feels something trying to build in her and she wants to let it.

“Can we go faster?” She hesitantly asks.

Ben sends her a look of pure relief, and his next thrust is harder, making her dig her heels into his back. The motion must encourage him, because soon the awkward movements begin to find a rhythm. Then the rhythm goes faster, and Ben’s free arm moves around her back and lifts her closer to him. In this position, her forehead rests comfortably on his shoulder and she presses quick, lazy kisses to his sweat-soaked skin as they move. 

Ben lets his hold on her go slack slightly, enough for him to nudge her with his nose so he can bring his mouth to her. He sighs between kisses-- like he can’t get enough air-- and she brings the hand he isn’t still holding to his neck, letting her fingers get tangled in his hair. Rey accidentally pulls on it when he moves forward, and before she can apologize, he’s biting down on her shoulder and his thrust is harder. The bite doesn’t hurt, it feels  _ good  _ actually, and so she pulls on it again and his movements start to become more erratic.

Trying to help, she presses her thighs together-

And Ben lets out a short grunt that sounds like her name, and his next thrust has a finality to it that makes her sigh. He hovers for a few moments, everything about him drawn tightly, and Rey once again traces his cheek with her thumb. He leans into it, grateful, as he keeps his eyes closed.

After a few seconds he opens his eyes and slowly pulls out. When he does, she feels him, warm on her thighs.

Almost boneless, he rolls onto his back and draws her to him. She tucks her head under his chin, rests her cheek on his chest (finally free of that terrible brocade), and neither bother to change the interconnected mess their legs have become. He rubs small circles on her bare shoulder, his breathing evening out, then becoming deeper.

“Did you come?” He asks, concerned.

“Earlier,” she reminds him. 

His thumb stops on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she says, trying to stop a yawn. Even without another orgasm, she feels sated and tired. “Next time.”

“Next time,” he repeats, as if he can’t understand what that means.

She smiles.

\--

After they clean up, they sneak glances at each other, almost shy. It wasn’t about lust, their first time, and so attention was spent on other things. Now that it’s over, Rey takes time to actually  _ look  _ at Ben. At the muscles no politician should need, the moles that really are all over. She wonders how she must look to him-- her skin permanently freckled from the sun, crossed and dotted with scars. Wiry muscles that the women of his world probably didn’t often have. She’s not insecure, but she does wonder how they’ll fit, if they’re ever able to outside this apartment.

A little awkwardly, he pulls back the blanket on the opposite side of the bed. Rey realizes she’s been leaning against a wall for a little too long, and slides in next to him. Ben relaxes at that, pulling her to him like he did earlier, kissing the top of her head. 

Then he asks the question neither of them want to hear.

“How long can you stay?”

“...another ten hours.”

Ben’s hold around her tightens. There’s nothing to say to that, no argument to be made, and so, eventually, they both fall asleep.

\--

Rey wakes up before Ben the next morning. They’ve moved around in the night, and they’re now on their sides with Rey’s arm slung over his stomach and her cheek between his shoulder blades. It’s therefore easy for her to pull away, to kiss his forehead, and to sit in a corner of his apartment ( _ still  _ furnitureless, despite the bed), and work through the idea that’s just come to her head. 

\--

Rey is just about to remove the last wire when she feels a surge of overwhelming panic. It’s not hers, and so she turns to see Ben realizing he’s waking up in an empty bed-

“I’m here,” she says, and almost instantly the panic abates. Instead, it turns into confusion.

Rey knows she must look a little ridiculous. She’s in nothing but one of Ben’s shirts (the least complicated one she could find) sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a disassembled lightsaber. There’s the sound of some rustling sheets, bare feet walking, and then Ben’s shadow hangs over her and what’s left of her saberstaff.

She looks up, and sees that Ben’s staring at his shirt intently. 

Rey rolls her eyes.”You’ll get it back.”

“What?”

“The shirt.”

His shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t care about-” 

He sighs, deciding to let something go, as his attention turns to the mess she’s made of his otherwise spotless apartment. “What are you doing?”

Rey runs a hand through her messy hair, suddenly nervous. “You can’t get mad about it.”

“Why would I be mad about your lightsaber?”

She cuts the last wire. Tentatively, and her heart hurting just a little, she withdraws her lightsaber’s crystal: a black stone shot through with red veins. Her first gift, her most important one. When she holds it, she can almost hear the whispers within that belonged to the ones that came before her: Qui Gon Jin, Obi Wan Kenobi...Anakin Skywalker.

Ben comes to a crouch in front of her. Rey takes a deep breath, and extends her hand, palm open, with the stone resting in the middle.

“I want you to have this,” she states, knowing as soon as she says it she means it. Because this stone is just as much Ben’s legacy as her own, even if he doesn’t want it. Maybe especially because he doesn’t want it. But Rey has so many fond memories of Anakin and Ben…

Ben has nothing of him.

He looks at her hand, then sends a slow look to the parts. “Don’t you need this?”

Rey swallows. “I’ll find something else.”

Hesitantly, Ben’s fingers hover over the stone-  
-and instantly recoil

“That’s-”

“Anakin’s,” Rey affirms. She exhales, looking down at it. “It’s also the most important thing I own.”

“Then keep it.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not mine anymore.”

“Rey-”

“Please.”

He’s quiet for a long time. Then he stands. When she looks at him, confused and maybe a little bit hurt, he just shakes his head.

“Hold on.”

\--

When he returns from a side room in the apartment, he’s worrying something between his hands. As he gets closer, takes his position kneeling across from her once again, she sees it’s a ring.

What a man might typically do with a ring when he’s with a woman he loves doesn’t even cross her mind. Instead, she stares at it like it’s a puzzle. The band is gold, too wide for a woman’s style, and in the middle there’s a deep red gem of some kind.

Ben’s hand slowly takes the stone from her hand. “Only because it’s yours,” he mutters.  And then Rey finds the weight replaced by the ring being dropped into her palm. “Will that work?”

Rey frowns, confused. “Work for what?”

“To replace it.”

It clicks into place. Rey looks again at the ring, this time focusing on the gem as she does the mental calculations. “...it should fit.”

\--

An hour later, Rey switches on the ignition. The ends of her lightsaber spring to life, a rich burgundy shade. She stares at it, taking in the new color. It no longer matches that of her Master’s, but in that loss there’s a comfort in her having something of her own. Something from Ben.

“The ring was my grandmother’s,” Ben says after Rey finally powers it down. “She gave it to me when I was elected Senator.”

Something of Anakin’s, something of Padme’s. It feels right.

Rey looks up at him. “I’ll take care of it.”

He takes her face in both of his hands. “It’s not going to be the ring I worry about.” 

She gives a forced smile. “I’m  _ your  _ bodyguard, remember?”

Ben doesn’t play into the game, his eyes dark and troubled. 

Once again, Rey grabs his hand to kiss the back of it. She doesn’t make a habit of lying, so she can’t tell Ben she’ll be safe. She doesn’t know if she will. The Sith were out there, they were looking for her. And it was her responsibility to keep them from knowing about Ben or his family.  _ Anakin’s  _ family, the last promise she made to him. 

“I want to come back here,” she offers instead of a promise she might not be able to keep.

Ben grips her hand tightly in his. “Then do it.”

\--

Two hours later, and Rey’s prepping her small fighter for a route back to Coruscant. Ben stands to the side, a human thunderstorm, while she does her checks and sets her astronav. When she’s done, she turns to him-

-he leans down and kisses her, hands in her hair. 

“Eight months,” he reminds her flatly when they part, “Was too long.”

She gives a watery smile. “I’ll shoot for seven.”

“One.”

“Six?”

“One.”

“Five-”

“ _ One _ .”

She lifts up on her toes, presses a quick kiss to the corner of his scowling mouth.

“One,” she compromises.

\--

...she misses him before she’s even left atmo. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time jump incoming!!!! hope y'all are ready for act 2 <3


	26. act ii, part one: aphelion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I COULDNT WAIT have a teaser chapter   
> also i swear i'll be getting to comments soon I've been really slow/bad in answering, but know that i'm reading them all and i appreciate them a ton <3 <3 <3

**10 ABY** **  
** **\--**

Leia feels the crash before she hears it. Immediately, she’s jolted out of bed, wide-awake despite the hour. Beside her, Han leans up, blinking away sleep. 

“Again?” He manages. 

Leia throws over the covers. “Stay there.”

Han shakes his head, looking more alert as he starts to stand. “I don’t stay put anywhere, your worship.”

“I’m aware-”

Another crash. Leia and Han share grim, concerned looks before they leave their room in Leia’s Theed apartment and walk down the hall.

Leia closes her eyes as they approach their son’s room. Wordlessly, she casts out her senses. Ben’s upset-- and for a moment, she feels his agitation. The Force has manifested itself early in him, but too much too fast. It feels almost like it was when he was teething-- itchy and raw and uncomfortable. Leia has no such recollection of her emergence in the Force-- it had just been there. Something she could put on or discard whenever she felt like it. Her son, it seemed, was not spared the dramatics of the Skywalker males. 

There must be something in her expression, because Han’s voice is tense.

“Another episode?”

She doesn’t break her trance. “Don’t call them episodes.” After a moment, her eyes flutter open. “But you really should stay back.”

Han rolls his eyes, hand going to open the door. “What’s he going to do, throw a stuffed animal at me-?”

As soon as it opens, one of Ben’s building blocks shoots forward. It clocks Han straight in the head, cutting the skin.

“Shit!” He takes a step back, pinching the bridge of his nose, which Leia suspects has started bleeding.

“I did say to stay back.”

Leia strides in, using the Force to effortlessly deflect the toys and unbolted furnishings flying in the air like a small tornado. 

Han lets out an amused laugh that sounds something like “Har har,” but wisely removes himself from the threshold of Ben’s room.

He’s not crying. Ben never cries when this happens, and sometimes that makes Leia more concerned. Instead, he’s just sitting here in the center of the room, small face screwed up in pain as the objects he’s levitating move faster and faster. Part of his now disassembled bed frame catapults over her shoulder, embedding into the wall. So much for her deposit.

“Ben?” She tries, walking slowly closer. 

He looks up, as if realizing for the first time he’s not alone. “Mom?”

“That’s right.” She kneels in front of him. “Can you put the room down?”

She hears his toy chest split in half behind her. That's probably a no. 

Leia frowns, feeling more worried now that she’s closer. Can actively sense the turmoil in him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

His eyes squeeze shut. “It’s too loud!” 

“What is?”

“It’s too loud, mom!” Ben sounds more desperate, more scared. 

The toys start to spin-- faster and faster and it must be picking up velocity because she hears Han’s concerned: “Leia?” from the hall.

“Ben,” Leia says patiently, doing her best to be calm for his sake. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s too! Loud!” The last word is a scream, and the glass of the viewport shatters behind him. 

Instantly, Leia covers his small frame with her own, shards falling down on her back. A few of them even sting a little. 

“LEIA-!”

Hating what she’s about to do, but not knowing there’s no other options for the time being, Leia closes her eyes and holds Ben to her tightly.

“Go to sleep,” she whispers, the Force pushing her words along.

She feels Ben’s head loll onto her shoulder. Delicately, she stands, her son cradled in her arms. Ben’s dead weight, and even at five years old he’s a lanky child. So when Han steps forward to take him from her, Leia lets him go without much of a fuss. 

“What the hell happened in there?” Han asks, expression serious in a way it usually isn’t. Leia notices that his gaze is trained on the gaping hole in the wall where the window used to be.

She frowns. There is something off, here. More than just growing pains. Her mind snags on his words: too loud. The Force wasn’t a  _ loud  _ thing. Not for her, or her twin. 

“You’re bleeding,” Han observes grimly, his fingers trailing over the injuries on her back.

Leia dismisses him with a wave of her hand, face deep in thought.

“Talk to me,” Han prods. Ben’s cheek presses into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“I need to make a call,” Leia finally says, voice sounding distant.

“To Luke?”

Leia blinks, seemingly returning to the present. “No.”

She cards her fingers through Ben’s messy, dark hair.

“Dad.”

 

**\--** **  
** **37 ABY** **  
** **\--** **  
** **  
** The black bag’s pulled off his head, and Ben has to fight hard not to sigh. There’s nothing to be done for the glare, however, as his eyes adjust to the light. 

The man who took off the bag, who Ben assumed was the leader, kneels in front of him. In what is unusual for Ben, the man can actually meet him at eye-level, his eyes a darker green than the light tint of the color of his skin. 

Ben scowls at him. “That wasn’t necessary.” 

The leader’s face is neutral as he shrugs. “Sorry, Minister. Someone really doesn’t want you to make that fundraiser.” 

Ben grits his teeth. He knows who that someone is. “You’re  _ in  _ Coruscant’s atmo, do you really think kidnapping a public official is going to go unnoticed?” 

The man raises his brows, the neutral expression leaning toward amused. “Yes, actually.” 

“So you’ve done this before.”

“Only when I’m in a pinch for credits.”

Ben takes a slow look around his surroundings. It’s a freighter or cargo hauler of some kind, and it seems to be made piece-meal. “I can see that.”

“And I can always put the bag back on.”

Ben rolls his eyes. When he left Theed for a campaign event on Coruscant, being taken by  _ pirates  _ hadn’t been on the itinerary. He’d been half asleep when they intercepted his shuttle, the craft flooded with some kind of knockout gas that allowed a crew of five or so people in black, leather jackets to collect and move him to this flying tin can.

_ You’re late-- what’s happening?   _ Comes a familiar voice across his thoughts.

Ben closes his eyes, smiling despite himself.  _ Kidnapped. _

He feels her panic.  _ Separatists?! _

Ben sends a long look at the leader. He’s younger than Ben, but probably not by much. He’s human or humanoid, with a wiry and long-limbed build. His hair is black and kept in a ponytail. 

_ No one- _

There’s the unmistakable sound of something landing  _ directly on top  _ of the flying cargo hauler. 

_ -important,  _ he thinks, caught somewhere between affection and amusement. 

“The hell-?” Asks one of the underlings, as the pirates look up and aim blasters at the ceiling.

All but the leader, who observes Ben coolly. “Must be with you?”

“Must be.”

The leader sighs, retrieving a blaster pistol at his side and training it on Ben. “Knew five thousand credits was too good for babysitting-”

Ben snorts. “That’s it?”

The leader sends him an unimpressed look, about to comment when the ceiling is quite literally ripped away from them. 

The crew starts shooting immediately, but Ben’s main captor doesn’t move. For a moment, he’s almost impressed with his composure. But the pirate doesn’t matter to him as soon as he hears a familiar  _ snap-hiss.  _ Ben’s eyes focus upward at the cargo hauler’s new skylight.

A blur of grey, navy, and burgundy falls through it, booted feet landing on the hauler’s floor with only a soft ‘thump’. Ben watches with a soft look as she deflects the pirates’ shots with her lightsaber in one hand and shoves all five of the crew members into the wall with the other. They connect with it, groan, then collapse bonelessly. 

Not even breaking stride, she pivots, her short hair flying out with the motion as her eyes land on Ben. 

“You okay?” She asks breathlessly.

He nods. At most, he’s inconvenienced. “The leader has a blaster.”

She turns, lightsaber swinging into a protective circle as she faces Ben’s main captor-

Who is just.  _ Staring.  _ At her.

“Rey?” The pirate asks in disbelief. 

Rey’s lightsaber disengages. 

“ _ Zekk _ ?”

There’s a long moment of tension, which Ben uses to discretely Force-sever the restrainers on his wrists as he watches the exchange carefully-

And then his captor  _ laughs,  _ dropping his blaster on the ground. Ben barely has enough time to realize what’s happening before the pirate scoops Rey up into a hug that has her feet swinging out. Ben reaches for the man’s blaster-

-but then Rey hugs him back, her laugh barely covering the groans of pain from the man’s fallen crew. 

They break away after a second, and Ben narrows his eyes at how they’re still bracing each other’s forearms. 

“What are you doing here?” Rey asks, incredulous. 

_ Kidnapping me,  _ Ben reminds her, unable to completely hide his annoyance at the thought.

At this, Rey drops Zekk’s arms quickly, sending Ben a mollified look.  _ I’m sorry, he’s an old friend- _

The man keeps his hands on her and smiles. It’s a nervous smile, one that Ben immediately doesn’t like. “One of us had to actually run away and become a pirate.”

_ Friend?   _ Ben asks archly. 

Rey steps back from the man, moving over to offer Ben a hand. He takes it, eyes not leaving the pirate. When he feels Rey’s thumb trace against his palm before she lets go, he relaxes. A little. 

“Did you land a  _ swoop  _ on my roof?” Zekk asks, looking up through the hole Rey punched in his hauler during her rescue. 

She coughs into her hand. “Half a swoop, now.”

Zekk shakes his head. “Still a junkrat.”

“Still a ventcrawler.”

Ben clears his throat. 

Zekk looks away from the hole, seeming to remember he’s there. “I take it you’re here for the Minister?” 

Rey nods, absently Force-pushing the prone bodies of Zekk’s crew out of the way so Ben has a clear path to walk through. 

“Minister Solo, this is Zekk. Finn and I used to sneak off and race swoops with him before…” 

Something sad crosses Zekk’s face, just for a second, before he finishes the thought. “...before they were Knighted.” He looks at Ben, re-evaluating.

Ben crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head. 

Rey looks at the floor. “Sorry about your crew.”

Zekk hasn’t looked away from Ben yet. “Sorry about your Minister.”

Rey crosses her arms over her chest, unknowingly mimicking Ben’s posture. “So who hired you?”

Zekk finally breaks eye contact to look at her. “Some other politician from Naboo.”

Ben scowls. “Throddo?” 

The pirate gives a hesitant nod. “Sounds familiar.” For a moment, he looks slightly embarrassed. “For what it’s worth, we were only meant to hold you for forty hours. You were on the way to a safehouse.”

“How hospitable.”

“We try.”

A long, metallic scrape above their heads, followed by a  _thunk!_  breaks the silence.

Rey winces.

“Zekk?”

“Yes?”

Her face scrunches and Ben doesn’t like that Zekk smiles at it. “I think you owe the Minister and I a ride.”

Zekk shakes his head, stepping over his unconscious crew to switch off the auto-pilot. “Where to?”

\--

Four hours later and Ben’s in his mother’s apartment on Coruscant. The space is rarely used by his family, more often than not borrowed to some of Leia’s friends as they end up on the city planet for diplomatic missions or Senate votes. The artificial sun has set, and so Ben sits at a desk, pretending to read a datalog. His right hand idly scrolls through its content without comprehending any of it, while his left is outstretched, a mismatched collection of pebbles spinning in a circle over his palm. He’s had them for a few years now. 

There’s a knock, and instantly Ben is standing. The pebbles floating down to the desk behind him slowly. 

Rey doesn’t even wait for him to open the door before she rushes in, arms thrown around his neck. He grabs her tightly, then brings a hand to frame her face before he kisses her. It’s getting harder, when he’s here publicly, to pretend they’re only friends. But the frustration from this afternoon melts away as she kisses him back, letting out a little sigh once they part. 

He looks down at her and smiles. It’s been almost two months since he’s been with her, not as a blurred holocomm or as a disembodied voice in his mind, but standing in the same space, breathing the same air. He takes a moment to just look at her in a way he isn’t able to in public, and he feels centered. Calm, almost.

“I missed you,” he says.

“I missed you, too. Why didn’t you tell me there’s a politician wanting to kidnap you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew the kidnapper?"

Rey’s fingers slide under the knot he now keeps his hair in when he’s not in formal events, and after a moment he feels a cool, soothing energy emerge from her fingertips and into the strained muscles of his neck. It’s been kinked, lately, from too many nights reading manifests into early hours. Instantly, a week-long ache feels better. He kisses her forehead in gratitude. 

Rey rests her cheek on his chest. “Zekk was a third-party hire. We talked after he dropped you off.”

“What else did you talk about?”

Rey sighs, and he feels the motion of it from where he has his hand pressed against her back. “He wouldn’t have hurt you.”

That’s not why he’s annoyed. But Ben just closes his eyes. It’s not worth it, right now, to be annoyed in their short time together. In the two years they’d been together, the stolen meetings were harder and harder to come by. Something that was unexpectedly complicated by Ben spending more time on Coruscant. 

Being on Coruscant meant more eyes. And, of course, the presence of the Order itself. It was like a physical pain everytime Rey addressed him as Minister Solo as opposed to Ben, but he understood it was necessary. For now.

“How long until you have to get ready?” Rey asks, knowing why he’s returned to Coruscant this time.

He kisses her again. “Not long enough.”

She looks disappointed. “Then I had better get going, too. I just...wanted to see you.”

Ben smiles. It’s something he only does around her. “After?”

“After.” Rey stands on her tiptoes, kissing him softly.

And just like that, she’s gone as quickly as she had come in.

Ben looks at the door for a moment after it closes, then begins his preparations.

A Galactic Senatorial fundraiser isn’t that different from going into battle, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Rey is rocking a look similar to [Korra in season 4](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/430797520584439604/), post timeskip. [here's a pic of daisy with similar hair length](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279472197980/)
> 
> -[Zekk's cool pirate jacket](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279470293559/)
> 
> -Ben's off-duty [manbun + braids hair](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550213279472170484/)
> 
> -the pebbles Ben is levitating at his desk are the ones rey gave him at the pond before they had their first kiss :B what a sap


End file.
